


Crazy In Love

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, FrostIron - Freeform, M/M, Multiple Personality Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-11-27 19:30:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 27
Words: 28,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthony Stark, better known as Case #56 is a diagnosed Multiple Personality Disorder patient, a condition he develops after being repetitively raped by his father and the doctors at the Asylum. However, it all changes when he meets a green-eyed, tall Loki Laufeyson - the only doctor he ever felt anything but fear and disgust for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Case #56

**Author's Note:**

> As the story continues, there might be graphic depictions of violence, rape and verbal abuse, so please proceed with caution. Also, I appreciate any feedback I receive, whether negative or positive, so please do leave some

            Anthony Stark, more commonly known as Case #56, sat silently in his corner, his hands shaking, his head low. His amber eyes were dark and lifeless, his lips trembling and his face colorless. His thin body shook, always cold, always hungry. He didn’t remember how long he had been sitting there; but it also didn’t matter. His pale hands, short fingers knotted in his hair were stained with his own blood, bits of dried red clotting his hair together.

            The walls were stained with the same brown and red liquid. There were scratch marks everywhere, from the sleepless nights. The fear of the dark was one of the many of problems #56 had on his list. Every single night, after the sun set, the darkness would follow. The small, bony hands would start shaking, scratching and clawing away, and he would bang his head on the rough surface of the painfully _white_ walls, trying to break the strong barriers, needing to get out. The smell of blood that always followed was something he was accustomed to, that smell that held so many memories of such different varieties of pain he had experienced in his short life. 

            He was sick of the hospital. Sick of the colors surrounding him. Or rather, lack of color. It was all black and white. Black, cold eyes examining him once in a while. White walls, white coats, white sheets. He was sick of it all. Red was a poor alternative, but it was a color. So he scratched at the pale walls, his skin breaking and the crimson liquid covering the surface. In some parts, the color was bright and fresh. In the others, the red was fading to dark brown, slowly turning into the black he despised.

            Every once in a while, the small peephole in the door would slide open and two cold eyes would peer in, judging, mean and angry. Sometimes, the door would then open. #56 only had two kinds of visitors.

            There were those who wanted to stare and mock him, calling him the freak, sometimes poking him with their fingers and watching as he shuffled away into his corner like an animal, wanting to shrink and disappear. They would chuckle then, clapping their hands, their disgusting smooth hair glued in place with the gel as their shoulders shook from the laughter. Tony sometimes stared at them, hoping that they would see the menace he tried to express with his gaze, hoping that they would finally leave him alone. But they rarely left until they got their full satisfaction of teasing and mocking him, eventually walking away with a self-confident smirk on their faces.

            The second kind of visitors was a much worse kind. They were the so-called doctors who came in to observe the patient. #56 was the famous freak of the town, his blood curling screams being the main entertainment during the cold nights for the citizens. The doctors would come in and lock the door behind them, and from their walk Tony would know what was coming. Usually they would be silent the whole time as they dropped their pants, knotting their fingers in his hair and dragged him over to the horribly white bed in spite of his protests, throwing him down onto his chest and tearing off his pants. What would follow was rarely remembered. He could recall the grunts and the pushes, his face rubbing against the rough mattress with every thrust, the stinging pain in his behind and the warm mixture of blood and sperm flowing down his thigh. And of course, he always remembered the smell - the smell of blood - even if it was mixed with the stench of sweat and cum. When they finished they would simply pull their pants up and leave, not bothering to clean up the mess, knowing that their acts would go unpunished.

            But what not many of them were warned about was that Case #56 had multiple personality disorder, and that the _other_ was far more dangerous than Tony himself. Sometimes, he would snap. On some nights, during some of the visits, #56 would not be able to take it anymore and he would give into the strong presence of the _other_. He remembered nothing of those happenings but when he regained consciousness, he was usually surrounded by a bloody mess, half of which was not his own. Sometimes a dead body with a severely bruised neck, wide, lifeless eyes and a pale face would be next to him. His own hands would be covered in the sticky crimson mixture. His heart pounding. Then the nurses would come in, wearing their white coats. They would grab his arms and twist them back in the most painful way they could and drag him back to his corner, kicking and punching him until he was nothing but a limp body. They would scream at him, even when he was already senseless on the floor, telling him of how _bad_ of a boy he had been, and how much he deserved the punishments. They said it so many times Tony found himself believing every word. 

            He could rarely control the visits of the _other_. He only knew that he was bad, and it was for _his_ sins that Tony was punished. He knew that he first came when Tony was a little boy, raped by his father, Howard. After the two events his family, disappointed by the adopted youngling who was supposed to be nothing more but a toy for the father gave him away into the asylum, not wanting to disgrace the family name. The dirty secrets of the Starks were covered up by the simple lie of ‘the mad boy doesn’t know what he is talking about’. He had heard it so many times he almost believed it, himself. Sometimes, that was what he wrote on the walls with his own blood, though he rarely had enough to finish the sentence.

            He had heard the guards outside talking of a new doctor coming in. From the way they talked Tony understood tat he was out of town. Those were usually the second type of visitors, the rich doctors who got their kicks out of raping mad patients, and needed a place safely far away for their guilty pleasures. On the night before the doctor’s arrival Tony’s screams were louder than usual, but useless as ever, and he could only hope the blood on the walls would scare the new doctor enough for him to run away before he could _touch_ him, or even worse, before the _other_ would come. 


	2. The First Hello

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One mad patient. One lonely Doctor. More alike than they ever would have imagined.

            The next morning, Loki Laufeyson, a confident young doctor with cold green eyes and smooth black hair was marching through the dirty hospital hallways to the infamous door #56, with the just as famous patient behind it.

            His gelled hair barely moved as he walked, the raven ends touching his shoulders. His thin lips were pressed into a hard line, his jaw set and his teeth gritted. He could feel the judging and amused looks that he received from the nurses – when he arrived with his briefcase and medical supplies in his hands they all looked oddly at him, and knowing #56’s history, he knew that medical treatment was not the common reason for doctors to come to the patient.

            He was warned that Anthony Stark was beyond repair, and constantly told that he was a fool for even trying, that it was dangerous. Nevertheless, Loki found motivation in the warnings. He was one of the best doctors of his kind, and by curing the incurable one; he would definitely be considered the best – and that was the only rank that Loki Laufeyson strived towards.

            “Another one?” he heard a low whisper and his head snapped right to see a fragile looking old nurse eye him carefully. Her grey hair was tied into a messy bun and her hands were visibly shaking from old age, her small black eyes darting as she observed the doctor. “This one actually thinks he can make a difference,” a low hiss came from his left and he turned to see a chubby male doctor with a self confident grin, “We all know the little shit’s only good for one thing,” he continued talking, not bothering to lower his voice like everyone else. Loki looked him over, the green eyes twinkling with disgust. He was about to snap back at him but decided not to, telling himself he was better than that.

            Instead he turned to the door, taking a deep breath. The handle was barely visibly stained with dried blood, and under the handle there were scratch and bite marks. Loki stopped himself before he could start imagining how exactly the markings were made.

            His pale, steady hand rose to the small circular knob on the side of the peephole and he slid it open carefully. Loki slowly pressed against the door, his smooth, strong nose pushing against the surface as he peered through the opening. At first, all he saw were the white walls and red and brown stains covering them. The sheets on the small bed were stained with the pinkish shades, as well. Then, his gaze fell on the small shaking figure in the corner of the room. The tiny hands covering the fragile knees were trembling violently, and two dark amber eyes stared back at him. He felt terror rise in his throat and he had to remind himself of the promise he made – to never leave a case until the patient was cured or died. And looking at the small man in the corner, Loki had a bad feeling it would be the latter.

            Cold, hungry and tired, Tony found himself staring into the emerald eyes that were looking at him through the hole in the door. At first, he felt scared. Just like he always felt when he heard the clicking of the peephole sliding open, because he knew that what usually followed was never pleasant. But as the green eyes studied them, he was comforted by the color. The pupils were cold and dark, but the emerald shade was still visible. And for Tony, whose life was colored with variations of black and white, the color was fascinating.

            Loki’s now not-so steady hand reached for the handle. He knew that he had to be strong; no matter how terrifying the stories of #56 were, and no matter how many of them were actually true, he was a doctor, and he came to do his job. The door made a horrible creaky sound as it opened slowly, and the small figure flinched, the chocolate brown eyes hiding behind the shaking knees once again. Loki walked in slowly, soundlessly, and winced as he heard the door click shut behind him.

            For a moment, the atmosphere in the room was heavy, pressuring both of the males inside. Loki stood still, carefully watching the patient, as if trying to decide whether he should run or stay. His pale hands were shoved into the pockets of the white coat, his lips still pursed, his eyes narrowed.

            Tony dared to look up only to duck his head down again, the self-assured posture of the doctor and his _terribly_ white coat making him cringe. He tried to shuffle further into his corner; he still had not healed from the last ‘doctor’ – his behind hurt, and the red stain on the back of his pants had not had enough time to fade into brown. He knew he was a bad boy, the last doctor had to be carried away, and he was beaten more than he usually was.

            Loki cleared his throat quietly and squeezed the handle of the briefcase in his hand nervously. This was not at all going the way he had planned. Finally, he found the courage to speak.

            “Loki Laufeyson,” he introduced himself quietly, his voice loud and clear, masking any uncertainty that he felt inside. He changed his stance as he spoke, straightening up and bringing his feet together. “Your new doctor,” he added quietly, as if that needed saying.

            Tony listened to the cold voice and found himself wishing that he was deaf and blind. He raised his head once again and gritted his teeth to keep them from clanking against each other. “Are y-you here t-t-to touch me?” he asked quietly, the trembling of his lips distorting the words but they still rang clear in the silent room.

            Loki felt an unfamiliar pang of pity – not something that he usually allowed himself to feel with his patients – cloud his mind as he listened to #56 stuttering. “No,” he said, his voice low but coherent, the jade orbs never leaving the crouched body, “I’m your doctor,” he repeated his earlier words, a little more emphasis on the ‘doctor’ this time, “I’m here to heal you,”

 


	3. What's In A Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, a simple exchange of names is enough to earn trust and start something new

            “Heal…” Tony whispered, repeating the stranger’s words, “Doctor…”. His voice was creaky and rough, since he did not use it much, and when he did, it was to scream in pain and terror, clawing at the walls and trying to get out of the white room. “Doctor,” he whispered again and shook his head, shuffling back again, his head crashing with the cold surface of the wall as he did. Doctor was not a word associated with anything positive in Tony’s mind. Doctors raped, beat and hurt him. He had never known any other type. He shook his head again, his breathing slowly quickening, becoming more ragged and labored, his lungs expanding painfully with each pant.

            “Yes,” Loki nodded, confused by the patient’s inadequate reaction to his profession. “Doctor,” he repeated, and frowned when his words drew another pained gasp from the thin lips. His emerald eyes widened as the realization set in - #56’s perception of a doctor was far from positive – “No, no,” he sighed, shaking his head, “I’m not- not that kind of a doctor,” he tried to explain, daring a step towards the crouched figure but instantly stepping back when Tony’s lips parted and a low whine came out.

            Tony started shaking again, his trembling hands and white fingernails digging into his knees as he tried to disappear from that room. He lowered his head to stare down at his knees, his shoulders quivering intensely, his eyebrows knotted in fear and worry. “P-p-p-please,” he whispered, stuttering, his voice low and quiet, barely audible. “P-p-please,” he tried again, pleading with the doctor to let him go, or at least come sometime later, when he was healed.

            Loki pursed his lips, for once in his whole career finding himself uncertain, not knowing what to do next. “#56,” he said quietly, calling him, but then understood that referring to him by his hospital number was most likely not the best solution, “Anthony Stark,” he tried again after checking with his folder to make sure he got the name right.

            _Stark_ was the only part of it that Tony heard and the name threw him into another fit of asthmatic breathing and shivering limbs as he shook his head. _Stark_. _Mr. Stark._ That was the only way he was allowed to refer to his father, the one who had been the first to _touch_ him, the first to bring the _other_ out. “N-no,” he cried out, and his fingers started once again clawing at the skin on his arms, streaks of blood forming, dripping from his elbow. His fingernails, which were brown with the dried up blood, were now colored fresh crimson.

            Loki swallowed hard, his breathing quick and labored. The doctor himself was far from sane. It was his dark secret. Before he took on serious treatment, Loki had hardcore panic attacks and frequent hyperventilation, all because of the so-called ‘child trauma’ and ‘not enough affection expressed by the guardians’. It was all behind him now, and he refused to acknowledge the memories, telling himself that he was somehow different now. But deep inside, Loki knew better than anyone that all of his madness and instability was still inside of him, covered by masks and layers of false self-confidence, ready to break out if triggered. That was why Loki had cut off all family ties, refusing to talk to his mother, brother or father. He changed his phone number and moved away. The doctor knew that if any of the memories came back, they all would, and then he would break again, this time for good.

            That was why Loki had chosen to become a doctor, because by loosing himself in the problems of others around him, he coped with his own. Or rather, ignored his own. What Loki didn’t know was that the problems of Anthony Stark were too similar to his. Dangerously similar.

            “Anthony- Tony?” Loki called again, cocking his head and slowly lowering himself down to crouch a few meters away from the patient, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he stared at him, trying to understand what had set off the reaction. His eyes trailed over the shaking hands and wobbling knees, and the blood pooling on the ground, leaking from the wounds he had just made in his arms. He wanted to reach over and stop him, but knew that it might just make it all worse. “Tony?” he murmured, his voice as soft as he could make it. Loki was not used to softness, even around his patients. It all felt fake and forged to him, and no matter how good at it he was, Loki didn’t like lying.

            At the sound of his name Tony’s eyes opened again and he looked up at the doctor carefully, studying him. He had not heard his name in years. No one called him that, he was Case #56. He didn’t know why, but the truth was the doctors found it easier to beat and rape him if they reduced him to nothing but a number, a man with no name. Case #56. That was all he was.

            “Tony,”

            Tony fully raised his head at that, giving the doctor a small, barely visible nod, his amber eyes wide with wonder and fear. His lips were pressed into a hard line to hide the quivering of his bottom lip and his hands were still on his arms, but no longer clawing at the skin. He parted his lips to somehow answer, to acknowledge that it was his name, but shut them back up again when all that came out was a low whine and a strangled gasp.

            Loki forced a small, faint smile and nodded back at him. “So Tony,” he said quietly, glad to have at least some sort of an understanding with the patient. “You don’t have to call me doctor,” he concluded with a small shrug. He rarely told his name to his patients, but this one seemed different, this one seemed to need it. “You can call me Loki,”

            Tony’s lips twitched in something resembling a faint smile, or a shadow of one, and he parted his lips once again. “L-L-L” he tried to get the name out but the stuttering was making it hard for him and he blinked, pursing his lips. “L-Loki,” he managed to finally whisper, and panted softly from the effort it took to speak. 


	4. The Green Handkerchief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony receives his first gift

            “There you go,” Loki nodded with what he thought was a reassuring smile, his voice soft, as if he was talking to an infant. Or at least, that was what he aimed for. “Your file- your file says you have Multiple Personality Disorder, Paranoia, Anthropophobia and Autophobia…” Loki whispered, his eyes widening. “Fascinating,” he mumbled, shaking his head, “Tony, you fear of both being in a company of people and being alone at the same time,” he explained, his eyes wide with wonder and unhealthy interest.

            Tony set his jaw and looked back down on the ground, pressing his lips into a hard line and trying hard not to break free. He saw the faint smile on the doctor’s lips, the way he studied him as if he was a circus freak. He felt the _other_ strong inside of him and he struggled to push him back down, not wanting to let his anger and worry get him into trouble once again.

            “Nyctophobia- fear of darkness,” Loki continued, and #56 cringed at the word itself, his eyebrows knotting. “Tony, there are no lamps here,” the doctor noticed quietly, looking around, a pang of pity in his chest as he realized that the patient was forced into sleeping with no lights around. That is, of course, if he slept at all. And judging from the stains of dried blood on the walls, his soft, raspy voice and the brown bags under his eyes, he did not.

            Loki clicked his tongue in disapproval. The people who treated #56 were rather pathetic excuses for doctors. But then again, what kind of a _sane_ doctor would agree to attempt at healing the incurable Case #56. “Listen, Tony,” Loki said softly, hating how every word that came out of his mouth caused his patient to dig his nails further into his flesh, “Don’t do that please,” he murmured, pointing to his hands, “You’re hurting yourself,”

            Tony looked down at his hands and then at the small puddle of the crimson liquid by his feet and slowly eased his grip on his own arms. He didn’t feel the pain quite as much, he experienced so much agony that this was nothing compared to it. He slowly let his hands dropped down onto the floor, making a quiet splash as one of them hit the small spill. #56 looked down at the hand that had caused the sound, watching the crimson droplets on his fingers before looking back up at Loki.

            Loki’s false reassuring smile never faltered as he tried to fight the urge to leave the room, the smell of blood bringing back unwanted memories. “There you go,” he repeated, his voice a little weaker than he had intended it to be. “Can I-“ he asked quietly, holding up a bandage in his slightly sweating hand, the white fabric soft against his fingers.

            From the sight of the painfully _colorless_ material Tony shook his head quickly, his breathing growing unsteady once again. “W-white…” he whispered, his voice shaky and rough as he edged away from the doctor. The thought of the white _covering_ him, covering the only color – red – he had left made him sick.

            Loki swallowed hard and shook his head, hiding the bandage once again and getting out his personal handkerchief, his favorite one with gold initials and green silky fabric. He hesitated for a moment, knowing that blood would never wash off the expensive material. It was a present from one of the hospitals he ha worked at before. Loki never stayed in one spot, the memories and bonds he built with his colleagues and friends were too personal for him to keep. And he decided he was done with personal since- “Here,” he mumbled, cursing himself for sacrificing so much for his work and handing Tony the hanky.

            Tony’s eyes widened at the amount of color on the square material and his shaking hands reached out, his fingers grasping the fabric weakly, his hands curling into fists as he tried to hold the smooth cloth in his hands. He brought it closer to his face, inspecting it and smiling softly. He had not seen that much color in anything but his own blood in a long time, and the green looked magical. Tony sighed softly and brought the green to his face, burying his nose in it. It smelled of expensive cologne and medicine and Tony found himself pulling back from it, the smell to familiar to the smell of rich doctors that raped him. Instead, he pressed the handkerchief to his chest and looked down at it silently, frowning when his blood started to stain the emerald color and make it look brownish.

            Loki hid his disapproval and slight annoyance at the patient behind a soft smile, chuckling quietly. “You can have it,” he offered, raising an eyebrow, slightly surprised by how Tony’s behavior – one he should have dismissed as childish and exasperating – was somehow appealing to him.

            Tony’s eyes widened even further, the chocolate brown filled with innocent awe and admiration, his faint smile growing into a grin. He nodded silently, looking down at the green cloth again, his shaking fingers playing with the edges as he hummed and sung nonsense words to himself quietly, his voice no louder than a whisper, squeaky and soft. “Th-Thank you,” he mumbled to the doctor, his eyes kind and gentle as he looked back up at him, noticing idly how the color of the material in his hands matched the green in the deep orbs looking at him.

            Loki found his own lips twitching in a smile, a real one this time and he nodded once at the patient’s words. He could tell right then that this case was not going to be easy. But he could also tell that there was no way he was going to give it up. He watched the soft features and the tired but glimmering eyes for a while. “You’re welcome,” he replied, and dared to take another step towards the crouched man, “Tony,” 


	5. A Touch

            Tony didn’t mind as the doctor took another step towards him, too busy observing the pretty colors of the handkerchief in his hands. “It-it’s beautiful,” he whispered quietly, more to himself than to Loki, being used to speaking with himself, being alone for most of his life. He played with the material, tugging at the edges and watching as it moved, smiling to himself.

            Loki took the time to slowly approach Tony, moving to sit closer to him, cocking his head to observe him silently. He knew that he should have been using his clipboard, jotting things down or at least somehow medically surveying #56, but he was too fascinated by how wonderstruck the amber was.

            When Tony looked up again he jumped up a little, surprised by how close Loki had gotten and chuckling softly to himself, shaking his head nervously and leaning back, relief washing over him when the doctor took the hint and stepped back, as well.

            “So Tony,” Loki cleared his throat, reminding himself of where he was and who he was with, “Would you like to tell me more about yourself?” he asked softly, sitting down next to the patient and forcing a reassuring smile, not used to have to imitate so much kindness with his earlier cases. “I’m sure you have some interesting things to share,” he lied, his voice soft, as if talking to an infant, which Tony – in spite of his age – was.

            “Don’t do that,” Tony whispered, and for that moment, the amber eyes were stripped of the childlike amazement, and his face looked so much older, “Don’t lie,” he rasped, moving away from the doctor. He hated lies. His father had lied to him, and so had his mother. The only thing he did not _despise_ about the doctors at the hospital was that they were either honest or silent. “I don’t like liars,” his voice was hoarse, though still very quiet.

            Loki’s breath hitched in his throat and he nodded once, edging slightly away from the patient. The glint in the brown eyes was unexpectedly dangerous, and Loki had heard enough about his disorder to know that it was best not to provoke him. He frowned at how the small man had changed in the few seconds, how grown up he looked right then. “Okay Tony,” he pressed his lips into a hard line with another small nod.

            With the sound of his name the youthful innocence returned to the soft features and he smiled and nodded, satisfied with the answer. He looked back down at the piece of cloth in his hands and continued playing with it silently.

            “Tony, you still need to tell me something,” Loki said carefully, his voice soft but he was determined on not lying again, however hard that might be for him, “Tell me about your childhood,” he offered, but quickly changed his mind when the question made Tony cringe and shake his head violently, his fingers curling into fists, “Okay, okay,” he murmured, “Calm down,” he whispered and put his elegant hand with long fingers onto Tony’s knee.

            The touch seemed foreign to Tony, and he was unable to interpret it as a gesture of kindness so he took it the wrong, twisted way he was accustomed to. He jerked back, his breathing ragged once again, closing his eyes quickly and turning his head to the wall.

            Loki moved his hand back immediately and clicked his tongue in disapproval. It had been going so well, and now they were back to square one. “Tony, I’m sorry, I won’t touch you again,” Loki said gently, moving his hands back into his lap, “Can you tell me about something that you like?” he suggested, glad to have the amber eyes back on him as he spoke the question.

            “I like colors,” Tony whispered, smiling faintly, “All colors- except for red… because _he_ likes red,” he mumbled, looking down at his blood stained fingers.

            “Can you tell me more about him?” Loki prompted quietly, his voice hopeful. When he got a single ‘No’ as a response he frowned, shaking his head. “Tony, to get my help you need to help me too,” he whispered quietly, his emerald eyes trying to catch a glimpse of the brown.

            When Tony finally turned to look him in the eyes he nodded slowly, sighing quietly. “He- he comes out when I’m scared,” he mumbled quietly, his voice low and weak, his hands grasping the green fabric, “He first came- came when my father t-t-t-touched me,” he rasped, his throat going dry, “And sometimes, when I’m here and the d-doctors- when they-“ he swallowed hard again and shook his head, “He comes, and then he breaks them, and I get punished because he breaks them,” his voice grew louder and a little shakier before it trailed off and he sniffled quietly.

            “Tony, it’s alright, no one is going to _touch_ you while I’m here,” Loki promised quietly, his voice sincere, “You’d know if I was lying,” he added to reassure the other.

            Tony nodded, looking back up at him, his eyes glassy. He tried to look for hints, for signs that the doctor was lying – the signs he grew so accustomed to finding – but he found none. His lips twitched in a soft smile and when the doctor raised his hand once again to place it on his knee he nodded in approval, relaxing a little.

            It felt nice to have someone touch him. Not _touch_ him, but actually feel someone’s skin against his own. A simple contact meant so much to Tony, who had been feared and caused nothing but disgust and panic in others. But this doctor was not scared or revolted by him, and there he was, the _perfect_ hand resting lightly on his bony and blood stained knee.

            “You’re a good boy, Tony,” Loki praised him quietly, knowing that with the patient’s history, he was used to hearing the opposite, “You deserve to be healed, and that’s just what I’ll do,” he promised him, and Tony once again found himself searching for things that would give the too-good-to-be-true lie away, and, once again, not finding any.

            “I believe you,” he murmured softly, a small smile on his lips as he nodded and placed his small, shaky hand on top of Loki’s, noticing the contrast between the caked-blood brown and pale ivory skin. 


	6. An Accident

            Loki smiled as Tony’s hand rested on top of his and nodded silently in reassurance, glad to already be making so much progress. He knew that no other doctor had gotten to where the two were right now, and he took pride in that. But as far as he already was, it would mean nothing unless he didn’t finish it. So he rubbed his thumb across the small kneecap, knotting his eyebrows at how the caked blood seemed to peel off at the slightest contact.

            “You need to take a shower,” the doctor said gently, smiling up at Tony, “How long has it been since you have taken a shower, Tony?” he murmured, his voice as soft as he could make it, his usually cold emerald gaze tender.

            Tony looked up at him, for a moment not understanding what Loki was saying but cringing as the realization set in. He remembered the last time he had a shower. He remembered thebig disgusting hands that bathed and _touched_ him, and he remembered the sudden pain in his backside that came so unexpectedly he had to cry out, only to have that swollen hand clamp over his mouth as the thrusts continued. A broken sob left his lips as he dug his head back into his lap, shaking Loki’s hand off and whimpering quietly.

            “No, Tony, no,” Loki sighed, not knowing what the simple offer had provoked but not wanting to ask, either, “Tony, just a shower, just to get you cleaned up,” he pleaded quietly, “Just to get you cleaned up,” he repeated over and over until he saw the glassy amber eyes look back up at him, blinking quickly, his lips still quivering, “There you go,” Loki smiled softly and stood up off the floor, “There’s a bathroom down the hall,” he smiled, extending his hand out to him.

            Tony considered it for a moment before shaking his head. He remembered leaving his room, once. Or rather, trying to. The current doctor was groping and fondling him, his pinkish hands pressing on the most painful spots and Tony kicked him hard in his stomach – or, well, as hard as Tony could, in his weakened state – and ran for the door. All he remembered was being pushed and kicked back. He later noticed the scratch marks and bloodstains on the door handle that nobody bothered to clean up. Or maybe they left it as a reminder of what would happen if he were to try and leave again. So Tony shook his head, looking down at his feet apologetically.

            “#56- Tony, come on,” Loki sighed, pressing his lips into a hard line, “I’ll be there anyway,” he said softly, wishing that he could offer more comforting words but only being able to go so far. “If you don’t come I’ll have to-“ Loki stopped talking when he noticed the patient shrinking into the corner and rolled his eyes. At least now he knew what method not to try with the patient. “Please,” he asked, and to his surprise the brown eyes joined his again and the small shoulders lifted in a shrug.

            “Alright then,” Loki took his shoulder as gently as he could – which was not so gently, in Loki’s case – and led him to the door. “Don’t worry, the nurses know better than to trespass me,” he told him, a hint of pride and arrogance in his voice.

            Tony followed him, not telling the doctor how much his grasp hurt his weak, small shoulder. Walking hurt, and his legs ached badly, his limbs shaking. He had not used them in a while, and one of the recent doctors had made him- _kneel_ , and his knees were swollen and bruised. But he said nothing, only following the tall man in the white coat, not wanting to misbehave and be punished again.

            Loki dragged him down the hallway, smirking at the wide-eyed faces and frowning doctors, knowing that he had surprised them with his short development. The young doctor was so lost in his dignity and vanity that he paid little attention to how tight his grasp around the small arm was, not hearing the small whimpers from behind.

            Once they were in the bathroom Loki turned to look at Tony, giving him a small supporting nod, “I’m afraid I can’t give you any privacy,” he said firmly, his voice apologetic but his eyes determined, “You are going to have to let me be present,” he nodded as he went over and started the water, making sure it was warm as it filled the bathtub.

            Tony frowned and wanted to shake his head again but then remembered the strong grip on his arm and how much it had hurt him, and nodded silently, not wanting to feel the strength of the doctor again. He took his shirt off slowly, his shoulders pressed forward in defense, the shirt ripping off pieces of his flesh along with dried blood as it came off. He moved on to his pants and pulled them off, his hands shaking violently, his scrawny legs quaking.

            Loki gasped barely audibly at the sight; the small man before him looked more like an animal, his skin covered in all shapes and sizes of bruises, caked blood covering the pale skin. Some of the scars were obviously self-inflicted – like the scratch marks all over his wrists and neck – but others were caused by the other nurses and doctors – his hips and back were decorated with bruises and wounds, the colors ranging from bright red to dark brown.  

            “Tony,” the doctor murmured, sincere pity in his voice as he moved to help the patient but instantly stopped in his tracks when in response Tony took a shaky step back and let out a small cry, shaking his head. “Okay, okay,” he whispered softly, taking a step back himself, raising his hands in surrender, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he spoke softly, trying to tone down the panic in the wide brown orbs, “You can step into the bath if you like,”

            Tony nodded once, feeling exposed in the worst ways, his body shaking like a leaf in strong wind, his nails digging into his exposed skin. He listened to the instruction and stepped slowly into the bath, glad to find that the water was warm – he had not felt anything but cold in a long time. He watched as the clear liquid was polluted by shades of brown and red, as the dry bits of blood detached from his body. He sat down in the tub and started to wash himself weakly. All of a sudden he felt his bottom slide down the slippery floor of the tub and he plopped down into the water, trying to breathe but only filling his lungs with air, his arms flailing around aimlessly as he attempted to resurface.

            Loki instantly moved to the side of the tub, thrusting his arms into the water and fishing Tony out, quickly pulling him onto his lap as he balanced on the edge of the tub, the small naked body still shuddering and floundering in his arms. “Hey, hey,” he whispered, his voice panicked. The amber eyes were wide open and alarmed, and his lips parted in desperate gasps and pants as water gurgled in his mouth. Loki lifted him so that his bare back was pressed against his own clean chest, forgetting about the expensive button down shirt he had on, only one thing on his mind. He pressed his hands onto the small stomach and pressed in, trying to get the water out, knowing that a mouth-to-mouth was neither necessary nor appropriate in this situation. Eventually, Tony coughed out water and blood, half of it from the tub and half from his own internal damages. He was panting and whimpering, scared and startled.

            When Tony finally calmed down he tried to get out of Loki’s hold, _hating_ the slender hands holding him back, _hating_ the feeling of being so uncovered. “Please,” he whispered, clawing at the pale hands around his waist, his skin still gleaming from the unfinished shower. To his relief Loki nodded and gently placed him back into the water, though he did not move away and his hand was still around the small waist, “Please,” Tony repeated, his voice shaky.

            “I can’t leave you,” Loki explained softly, trying to even out his breathing, the happening making him panic just as much as the other, “I promise I wont hurt you,” he mumbled quietly and reached for the soap in spite of #56’s protests, washing him carefully, avoiding scrubbing the wounds too hard.

            Tony knew that he had little say so he simply sat, silent and calm though his breathing was ragged and labored, as the doctor washed him. He was thankful to Loki for keeping away from the area under his waist, as the water was already stinging his hole bad enough. As he washed him, Tony noticed with a soft faint smile that the doctor started humming to himself, his voice smooth and wonderful, definitely not something that would belong in an asylum.

            When they were done Loki quickly got up and got the patient a towel, and the other clambered out of the tub with great effort, stepping into the warm fabric. Loki wrapped it around him, rubbing his shoulders to absorb the liquid. When Tony looked back out into the hallway, knowing that they would have to return and seeing the _other_ doctors staring at him, he edged away, and Loki sighed in understanding.

            “Tony, you have to,” he murmured softly and moved to the shaking figure, picking him up and cradling him in his arms, forcing a smile. Never had he needed to be so strangely intimate with his patients – he barely touched any of them, and managed to do his job just fine. But with _this one_ , it all just had to be different. With a small sharp exhale he walked out of the bathroom and back into the room, this time not enjoying the envious or bitter looks, only focusing on getting the trembling man back into his room.

            Once they were there he closed the door and placed Tony carefully onto the bed, brushing the brown damp hair out of his face. “Rest now,” he said, “You must be exhausted- you were quite- brave,” he managed to get out, patting his shoulder hesitantly.

            Tony gave him a small, tired smile before closing his eyes and nuzzling into the towel, the warmth soothing him as he fell asleep, for once in so long truly relaxing.

            The doctor found himself smiling back – which was not something that he usually did – as he watched Case #56 fall back asleep. He lowered his hand away from Tony’s hair and folded them on his lap before waiting until the soft breathing was fully evened out and calm, making sure that he was asleep and then getting up off the bed and moving to the door. He shut it soundlessly behind him, giving Tony a last glance before hurrying off down the hallway. 


	7. The Other (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the _other_...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains descriptions of non-consensual intercourse and graphic language, proceed at your own risk  
> (I've had to repost this because of a few problems)

            When Tony fell asleep after the shower, Loki left him – he had been working over hours by helping him bathe, anyway. He knew that he would be gone by the time the patient woke up, but he was wrong to give it little thought, dismissing the problems that it might cause – and did.

            #56 woke up with a strangled cry from yet another nightmare – worriless sleep was a luxury he could never dream to afford. He was drenched in cold sweat, as was the towel around him, his hands shaking. His clean nails were once again bloodied – he was digging them into the skin of his shoulders, hoping that the pain would fully wake him, praying that it would be strong enough to erase any traces of the nightmare.

            As he whimpered into the emptiness of the room, one of the doctors – the tall one with a beer belly, and small glimmering black eyes – came into the room, raising an eyebrow. “Why the shrieking, #56?” he snapped at him, tilting his head to one shoulder, his large foot tapping against the floor.

            At the sight of the other the state of the patient only worsened and he whispered nonsense words to himself as he tried to escape the dark gaze, attempted to peacefully retreat to his corner once again, his hands shaking as he crawled off the bed. But before he could take another step he felt his hair being pulled back, his whole body flying back onto the bed with one sharp pull, a small cry for help leaving his lips.

            “No you won’t, you little shit,” the doctor growled and clamped a hand over Tony’s mouth, his hands moving to tear the towel away from his body and throw it down onto the floor, leaving him nude once again, squirming to get out of his hold and trying to call out. The bigger man grabbed both of his bony thighs and flipped him over on the bed so that the pillow was muffling his screams, and fumbled to get his own pants off.

            Once the brown corduroy trousers were on the floor, he thrust deeply into Tony, the intrusion painful and rough due to the lack of lubrication, tearing a loud howl from the small lips. That only encouraged him further and he grabbed onto the legs, pulling hard at them to bring him closer, so that his length was buried deeper inside of the trembling patient. “Oh fuck yes,” he hissed, his voice accompanied by barely audible sound of blood dripping out of Tony’s entrance and onto the floor.

            Tony wished he was dead; it was no longer about the pain, the agony of being taken, and neither was it about the humiliation. It had happened so many times, he found himself believing that he was no more than just that – a tool to please perverted doctors. Each thrust and rock of the hips was accompanied by his own pained grunts and muffled shouts, and his head was banging against the headboard of the bed, making it hard for him to think, to concentrate.

            The doctor moaned loudly and quickened his pace, shoving and pushing with more force, wanting to hear more groans and cries of protest from his victim and ramming into him harder when he didn’t feel any. His fingers were bruising the skin of the tiny thighs – the pink skin was already starting to darken. He was closer to his climax and his hands moved to his waist for better support as he pounded into him mercilessly, not caring for the well being of his toy.

            “You little shit- you feel better than my wife you know that-“ the words fell from the fat lips unchecked, the owner too lost in his pleasure, “You always clench don’t you- I bet you like it, like it all, you whore-“ he growled, sweat falling from his forehead, the muscles in his buttocks clenching and unclenching with each movement.

            It was all too much for Tony; the pain, the mortification and the revolting hands on his waist. He felt the presence of the  _other_  strong in him, he could feel his rage and hatred burning through him. He tried hard to hold him back – Tony didn’t want to be a bad boy again, didn’t want to be punished, but he couldn’t help but give in, too weak to protest.

            For a moment, all the pain of the thrusts and the loudness of the grunts of the other man in the room seemed to overwhelm him as he gave into the  _other_ , but the next moment all he felt was- nothing. It was as if he had stepped back into the shadows of his own mind and let the  _other_ take control as he simply closed his eyes and chose to be oblivious to the situation.

            Through a haze he heard distant screaming, maybe his own or maybe the doctors, and then everything went blank. 


	8. The Other (part 2)

            When Loki was called up in the middle of the night, the old nurse on the other end obviously in tears, her voice shaky and soft, his first thought was that Tony had been killed. Obviously, there could have been no other explanation – there were screams and orders shouted in the background, most of them about getting the body out. He clutched the phone, and as guilty as it made him, his first thought was one of regret – for not healing Tony before this happened. That made him question his morality above all else – were bragging rights really more important to him than one’s life? But soon, those questions were abandoned. Because Tony wasn’t killed. He was the one that killed.

            His footsteps were loud as he walked down the hallway, his hands in his pockets and his usually slick hair messed up from sleep he had been awakened from. He ignored the loud protests from the nurses, walking straight towards the room #56, not caring about the warning he was receiving.

            The same small old woman who had been the one to call him stepped in front of the door, her hands shaking violently and her features scorched up in fear and worry, “No, no,” she whispered and her withered hands pushed Loki away from the door, “ _He’s_ there,” she mumbled, her voice dropping to a whisper as if someone could hear, as if someone was listening. “Don’t go there, doctor,” she murmured, her worry sincere, “Do not,” she repeated.

            Loki pushed her away, shaking his head, “I’m his doctor,” he said simply, and his voice was thick from sleep. She gave a soft cry but scurried off when the doctor placed his hand on the handle, ignoring the pool of blood beneath his feet as he stood in front of the door. He didn’t bother to look through the peephole to make sure the patient was away from the door and opened it, stepping it and closing it behind him.

            “#56?” he called softly, his voice echoing off the empty walls. He noticed the new stains of blood on the sheets, but decided to address that issue later. His gaze fell onto the skinny silhouette that was standing by the tiny opening in the wall that was too small to be called a window. His hands were folded and he wasn’t shaking like he usually was. Slowly, he turned around, and Loki almost gasped at the transformations in his face.

            His eyes were darker – so much darker than before. The chocolate brown had turned into a darker umber, almost too dark to be called anything but black. His lips were twisted in a strange shape resembling a smile or a smirk; his teeth were bared. His nostrils were flaring, his eyebrows knotted, creasing his forehead. He was definitely not the kind-eyed little boy Loki had met only a day ago.

            “Tony,” the stranger snapped, and the ends of his lips twitched up in disgust as he said the name, “His name is Tony, _not_ #56,” he hissed, and Loki felt threatened even though all he did was stand there, smoldering him with the dark brown gaze, “But I’m not Tony,” he added, taking a small step to Loki as he said the words, his head shaking as if to confirm the truth of them, “I’m definitely not Tony,” he hissed and with that a small laugh-like sound escaped his lips, although it sounded more like a nervous chuckle, a neurotic chortle.

            Loki took a step back, immediately regretting locking the door behind him. His hands in his pockets started to shake, and he refused to take them out, not wanting to show the other how scared he was. “My apologies,” he choked out, and his voice gave away much more than he had intended, “How may I call you?” he asked softly, more controlled this time.

            His eyes widened at the questions and he shrugged simply, “The other,” he whispered, “They call me the other,” he snapped and moved closer to Loki, his hand reaching out and falling on his shoulder, next to the pale neck. “Doctor,” he added, his eyes narrowed as he studied the other, his face only inches away from the others.

            All Loki could do was hold his breath and stare as the other explored his face, the small finger tracing the patterns and creases of his forehead and skin. The emerald eyes were wide in horror and worry, and he cursed himself for not listening to the old lady, for entering the room when it was obviously not safe.

            “Your eyes,” the other whispered as he pressed their noses together – a gesture that would have been considered sweet, almost caring if it was not for the fact that one of them was a mad patient and the other was his doctor – “I can see why he likes them so much,” he murmured, the dark eyes glimmering in the dim lighting of the room, “Do you want to fuck him too?” he asked sweetly, his voice low but sharp, only loud enough for the doctor to hear, “Are you too, under the impression that your PhD gives you the right to shove your cock into his asshole?” he asked, his skinny hand trailing over Loki’s cheek as he waited for a response.

            Loki opened his lips to answer but all that came out was a choked sound and he found that for once in his life, the doctor was speechless. He shook his head slowly, careful not to break the contact between them, not wanting to anger the other. “No,” he finally managed to whisper, his voice labored and creaky, “I want to heal him,” he mumbled, and his hands trembled even more intensely in his pockets.

            “Heal him,” the _other_ laughed, and his laugh bounced off the stained walls. He moved his face and hands away from the doctor and pressed against him instead, moving his torso to press harshly against Loki’s crotch, drawing a sharp intake of breath from the shocked doctor, “He’s incurable,” he sneered. Tony was incurable. Because if Tony was to be cured, then _he_ would have to leave. Because all _he_ was doing was protecting Tony. From people like Loki.

            He bared his teeth again and his hand shot up, his elbow pressing against Loki’s neck and knocking all breath out of him. “You,” he barked, spitting as he talked, “Are worse than them,” he growled, “They just rape him, but you- you feed him those fantasies of being cured, of leaving this place, you are so much worse,” he screamed, his eyes glinting with madness as he pushed his forearm against Loki’s throat.

            Loki tried to gasp and pant hopelessly, his arms weakly clawing at Tony’s skin. He was sure he was going to die – there was nothing to stop the madman from killing him right then and there, the door was locked and the doctors had scurried off, anyway. He thought idly of how many people he had saved in his lifetime and how many of them actually mattered to him. None. He had dedicated his life to helping those he didn’t care about. His hands grew weak from tearing at the _other’s_ flesh and dropped limply by his sides as his eyes rolled back in his head and he accepted the fact that he was breathing his last breaths. 


	9. The Aftermath

            For a few moments, all that was on Tony’s mind was the need to kill the doctor, the want to hear the last choked inhale before his eyes rolled back in his head and his grip on his arm loosened, the emerald orbs becoming still and lifeless. He needed to see and feel him die, to make sure that the doctor would never put false hope in his heart again.

            But as the _other_ pressed harder against Loki’s neck, Tony fought to get out from the inside, knowing that this was wrong, knowing that the man he was killing might be his last chance. Suddenly, the dark amber pupils rolled back in his head and his tight hold on the pale neck loosened. _He_ took a shaky step back and his body convulsed; he fell to the floor, his whole body seizing as Tony tried to take charge again.

            Loki’s eyes widened as he gasped for breath, his trembling hands on his knees as he struggled to expand his lungs enough to get sufficient oxygen into his mind. He stood like that for a moment, doubled over, his breaths shaky, noisy and labored, unable to do anything about the body in the midst of a violent fit on the floor. He was brought back to reality by the sounds of Tony choking on his own tongue as the muscle rolled back in his mouth, and the doctor quickly moved to his side, his elegant fingers moving into his mouth and finding the tongue, holding it out as Tony drooled and shook hard beneath him.

            “Shh, Shh,” Loki kept on humming, his voice still shaky and raspy from the attack, his hands still quivering. He didn’t know why he was still in the room; most doctors would have left him die, and perhaps saved a few lives by doing so: the man was unstable, and very possibly incurable. But all thoughts of abandoning the case were out of Loki’s mind as he watched the small features of the gentle face scorched up in pain and spasm.

            Eventually, Tony calmed down, but Loki kept shushing him even after that, the sound calming himself more than it calmed his patient. #56 slipped into a coma-like sleep, and his lips and limbs often twitched repetitively, but Loki found that calming, a sign that the other was not dead.

            The doctor’s breathing was ragged even after he had calmed down, and his throat ached badly; there were bruises forming around his collarbone already. His pale hands still shook, perhaps from the shock of it all, or maybe because he was still afraid that the _other_ would be the one who woke up, when he did.

            Loki sighed softly, shaking his head. He should have never come. This case was not going to prove him a better doctor, and even if it did, there was little chance he would live to see it. He caressed the side of Tony’s face to calm the twitching, and smiled to himself when the method proved to be effective and the jerking stopped. Maybe sticking to the traditional methods was sometimes overrated.

            The doctor sighed softly and stood up again, picking the small body up in his arms and carrying him to the bed, pressing his lips into a hard line at how lifeless the usually kind face looked. He placed him down in the sheets and covered him with the blankets, not liking how cold his skin felt. Once Tony was in a cocoon of blankets Loki sat down next to him on the bed, leaning onto the headboard, feeling exhausted, himself. He knew he needed some sleep and perhaps a shower to relax him, but leaving Tony again was too risky.

            Instead, he called his driver, telling him to bring over fresh clothes and some food, enough for the both of them. He noticed the strange tone in the chauffeur’s voice as he replied to him, and Loki realized that not once has he ever been this _obsessed_ with a case. Never obsessed enough to make it so personal, to not only let it threaten his life but willing to let it do it again.

            When the car arrived and his clothes and nutrition was brought in, Loki put it away into the corner, too tired to change or eat. He sat back down on the bed and leaned his head back again, closing his eyes. Before he knew it, Loki was asleep, snoring quietly, once again trusting the mad patient who was sleeping peacefully next to him with his life, even though he knew that the chances of him surviving another attack were low. 


	10. Color

            Tony woke up when Loki’s snoring got a little louder, and blinked tiredly, his body still tired from the happenings of the night. He yawned softly and his lungs ached as they expanded, and as he tried to move, the stinging pain in his back got stronger and he instantly knew what happened. The memories were hazy and he blinked a few more times, looking over at Loki who was asleep next to him.

            The amber eyes studied the pale body, and fell onto the bruises around the collar neck. At first, Tony’s confused mind only came up with one explanation; Loki had raped him, and the _other_ came out and killed him for it. But as the sleepy haze subsided, the memories came back, and he knew that the rough hands on his hips were not elegant and soft like the doctor’s, and the grunts and moans were far too croaky to be said by the thin graceful lips.

            #56 scrambled to get off the bed, not wanting to face the doctor when he woke up. He had saved him, and instead, the _other_ had punished him. It was Tony’s fault; the bruises around the perfect neck were made by his fingers. The patient looked down at his shaking hands as he tried to move away from the other, and fell off the bed with a loud thud. For a moment, the breath was knocked out of him and his body was paralyzed, the harsh fall immobilizing him.

            Loki, hearing the thud, woke up with a start and a soft sharp inhale.  “Tony,” he whispered, his voice raspy from the sleep, blinking. It took him a few moments to locate the soft whimpering sounds and he got up, hurrying to the side of the bed. He took the small head into his hands and raised it onto his lap, leaning against the bed and quickly combing through the messy amber hair in attempts to calm his breathing down.

            Tony screeched and darted up, moving away from Loki, not wanting to be punished. He had been a bad boy again, and he had let the _other_ come out and hurt his doctor. He was smart enough to know what followed. So he shuffled off into his corner, whining softly and holding his aching head in his hands. “I’m s-s-sorry,” he whispered, his voice shaky, “I didn’t mean to- I didn’t want to-“ he croaked, though he was not sure what he had done and where the other doctor was, the one who had _touched_ him.

            Loki was startled by the sudden actions of the patient but made no move to stop him. He simply sat by the bed, sighing softly, shaking his head. “It’s alright, Anthony,” he said plainly, shrugging. The motion caused his collarbones to hurt and he winced a little.

            Tony noticed the small wince and buried his face further in his hands, clawing at his skin and whispering breathless apologies. “I didn’t mean to,” he whimpered, his voice quiet. He looked up to see his doctor pressing his hands against the bruises and it hurt him to see the pain he had caused. He never meant to hurt anyone, he knew what it felt like to hurt, and he would never wish that much harm on anyone else.

            He moved quietly, still sniffling, breathless sobs falling from his lips as he crawled over to Loki, knowing that he had done nothing bad to him, that he only fell under the _other’s_ rage. “I’m so-so-so-sorry,” he bawled, not daring to touch the doctor, afraid of the punishment that would follow. “I was a b-b-bad boy,” he rasped, his voice thick with tears.

            Loki shook his head, his gaze forgiving. Which was another first for the doctor; he never forgave. Not his father, not his brother, not anyone who had ever crossed his path. And there he was, forgiving a mad patient for attacking and harming him. “It’s fine,” he repeated, his voice a murmur, “It’s alright, Tony,”

            Tony shook his head, not understanding, “I was a b-bad b-b-boy,” he moaned, his insides hurting from crying and his back still painfully sore. He moved away from the other again, not comprehending the forgiveness, never having experienced it.

            Loki followed, his lips twisted in an attempt of a reassuring smile, “It’s alright, you need to stop crying,” he whispered, his throat still hurting whenever he spoke from the attack, but he made no note of that as he tried to calm his patient. To his relief, Tony stopped crying, and only stared up at him in confusion now. “I’m not going to punish you, and neither is any other doctor,” Loki continued, and his voice broke off at the end from the strain it took to talk.

            Tony nodded once, and shuffled further away into his corner, understanding what the doctor was asking. Of course, nothing came without a price. Even though his hole was still raw from the last rape, and his muscles hurt, he knew he had to pay a price for the other’s silence, to not be punished again. “Okay,” he whispered, and moved to crawl over to the bed, “Just- just no bad- no bad words,” he murmured softly, not liking it when the others shouted harsh phrases at him, and lied down on his front, whimpering quietly, sniffling and bracing himself for the pain. He was still naked from the shower and the rape, and he was glad that they would have to skip at least that part.

            It took Loki some time to realize what his patient was doing and when he did, he simply looked down at him and shook his head, pity clutching his heart. “Oh Tony,” he sighed softly, frowning. He walked away from the bed and to the corner where his clothes were. He grabbed the bag and opened it, pulling out a few colorful old clothes. He walked back to the other, who was still whimpering face down on the bed and patted his shoulder gently. The two amber eyes looked up at him, glassy, red and confused, and Loki forced a soft smile.

            “I’m not going to _touch_ you, Tony,” he assured him gently, “I have brought some clothes for you if you like,” he offered and extended the green shirt and light orange sweatpants to Tony.

            Tony’s eyes widened as he saw the clothes and all confusion disappeared from his mind, only one thing on his mind. “Color!” he whispered, his voice soft as he stared at the bright material, his lips twitching in a soft smile, “Beautiful,” he murmured and extended his hand out to touch the fabric, the softness of it amazing him, “So soft,” he hummed in appreciation, his eyes trailing back to the doctor, confusion returning, “Why?” he asked quietly, cocking his head.

            “I’m your doctor, I’ll heal you,” Loki said softly, knowing that the fact did not explain any of his actions, knowing that he was being too soft and kind with his patient, “You don’t need to be afraid of me, I’ll protect you,” he promised him with a smile on his lips, this time sincere 


	11. Short Peace

            Tony smiled softly at him, forgetting the pain in his back and how exposed he was for a second, only beaming at Loki. “Thank you,” he said softly, his voice still weak. Those were the first sincere words of gratitude that he had said in such a long time; it almost felt like a relief to say them. “Thank you, doctor,” he repeated, just to feel the words on his tongue once again.

            Loki chuckled softly and nodded once, getting up on the bed and pulling Tony off the bed and from his surrendered position and into his lap, “Don’t you worry,” he cooed softly, not recognizing his own soft voice that he was not used to hearing. “You need to put those on, you’re shivering,” he remarked, and spread the green shirt out, then pulling it over Tony’s head with a small smile, careful not to irritate any of the wounds.

            The shirt grazed over the cut on his back and Tony winced slightly, but didn’t say anything, knowing that the pale hands were already being careful. “There you go,” he murmured as he straightened the shirt out on the thin body, patting his shoulder reassuringly. “Now the pants,” he added, and decided to let Tony put them on himself.

            Tony’s shaky hands extended for the pants and he tugged them on slowly, whimpering softly from the pain that shook his body when he finally pulled the sweatpants on. He lied back down on the bed when he was done, breathing labored and pained from the effort and exhaustion, even though he had just slept. He could not help but feel like he was going to get punished any moment now, the lack of pain that usually followed such happenings almost confusing him.

            Loki carefully tied the strings on the waistband of the pants carefully, patting his hip and shuffling to get up again. He moved to the plastic bag and got out a few containers of takeaway food, and walked back to the couch. “Look what I have here,” he murmured softly and extended the containers to Tony, opening the one that contained a few cold chicken nuggets from a fast food restaurant. “Do you like chicken?”

            Tony looked up, the smell of food chasing away his dizziness and bringing back hunger, “Chicken,” he whispered softly and nodded, he had not eaten it in a long time, but he remembered very well how good it tasted, how full it made him feel. His small fingers extended for the pieces and he took a bite, humming in appreciation and chewing it with a smile, the taste so pleasurably familiar.

            Loki smiled, pleased by how much joy the simple meal was bringing to Tony. He didn’t think twice about how much warmth spread in his gut from the sight, didn’t find it suspicious. He took out a soft drink and a burger for himself. When Tony finished chewing on his nuggets and leaned back in satisfaction, a grin plastered on his face, he extended the Coke to him, “It’s good, try it,”

            Tony nodded and took the soft drink, taking a small gulp. The taste surprised him, the liquid going down like acid down his sore, unused throat. He yelped and dropped the drink and the container popped open, the dark liquid spreading all over the floor. He gasped at the sight and suddenly, as if on cue, an unbearable pain in his stomach started, and he doubled over, falling off the bed once again, crawling away from the bed and back into his corner. “S-s-s-sorry,” he stuttered, moaning from the pain and knowing that he had disappointed the doctor once again, that he had spilled the drink he had offered, “S-s-s-so sorry,” he groaned, his eyes watering.

            At first Loki thought it was all from the surprise of the taste and waved it away, but concern spread on his face as he noticed how the patient knotted his eyebrows and parted his lips in pain. “Tony,” he rasped, his voice distorted by worry, and quickly moved to him, wanting to offer his embrace.

            Suddenly Tony doubled over again, throwing up everything that he had eaten all over the floor, the bits of not chewed nuggets and bile covering the stone. “S-s-s-“ he tried to speak again but the stammering got too strong and he closed his mouth, clinging to his stomach.

            Loki held him tightly as the tiny body shivered, shaking his head, “This is not from the drink,” he rasped, wondering if there was an end to #56’s problems, “This is something else,” he murmured, holding him closely. He looked down at him, trying to figure it out, “Tony, Tony, look at me,” he asked him, trying to lift his chin up.

            Tony looked up at the doctor, drooling a little from the side of his mouth, his face scorched up in agony and his lips still trying to get the apology out. He nodded once in acknowledgement of the doctor’s words, trying hard not to throw up again, not wanting to disappoint the doctor again.

            “Is there anything that makes you feel this way? Has this happened before?” Loki asked quietly, his emerald eyes pleading for an answer.

            “P-p-p-p-“ Tony tried to answer, his eyes blinking back tears as he tried to speak, but the cold and the violent shaking of his body made it so much harder, “P-p-“ he tried again, and Loki only listened patiently, not hurrying him up, his thin hands wrapped firmly around him, “P-p-pills,” 


	12. Pills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Some of the antipsychotics names are real, but some are made up, please do not use this fiction to diagnose yourself with anything (duuh), and if you are a doctor/student, do forgive the inaccuracies,_

            “Pills?” Loki repeated, his mouth going dry. “Do they make you take any pills?” he demanded, more urgent this time, trying to understand, to get the patient to talk.

            Tony nodded, his shaking finger pointing over to the corner, where shredded pieces and remains of a pill box were. Loki clutched him closer as he dragged them both to the corner to retrieve the pills and looked at the title, trying to see what it says in spite of the blood smeared on carton. “Thorazine, Prolixin, Haldol…” Loki mumbled, his face growing pale as realization dawned upon him.

            Tony nodded, the names sounding familiar. He could not read or write, but he remembered the doctors screaming the titles at him as they told him to take them. He almost flinched as each label was read, knowing that it was _them_ that were causing him all this pain, in his childlike mind knowing that the nurses wanted to poison him, that they all just wanted to see him dead, that he was alone.

            “These are some of the strongest antipsychotics,” Loki whispered, holding Tony closer, “Not only did you take them all at once, you were also hungry, weren’t you?” he cooed softly, looking down at Tony. As the patient nodded back he held him closer, shaking his head. He knew how much pain he was in, the medicine had instructions that one had to follow, and the nurses obviously did not. “They destroyed your poor stomach,” Loki spoke, more to himself than to Loki. Usually, his voice would have been blank, completely void of emotions, like he was reading a report rather than diagnosing a live human being. But with Tony, it was so different. He could almost feel the pain that was so well expressed in the deep, hurt-filled amber eyes.

            Tony was gasping and panting, it was not his first time being in so much agony from the medicine, and by far not the most painful one. But it hurt him even more to see that someone cared, that by hurting himself he was also hurting the doctor. “I-i-it’s f-f-f-“ he tried to reassure the doctor but couldn’t, his hands on his belly shaking and clawing at the skin, as if trying to take the disease out of him.

            Loki shook his head to shush him and rose to his feet, holding Tony close as he moved him back to the bed, lying him down. “I’m going to heal you,” he promised him softly, “No more antipsychotics, they are obviously not helping,” he concluded, talking to himself this time as he jotted down his notes.

            Tony felt light-headed and weak as he watched Loki, hearing him say things about Tony being too weak for surgery, and that he would have to rebuild his whole digestive system and other medical terms he did not understand. He only shook, his teeth gritted together to stop them from clanking against each other, his fingernails dug into his skin on his stomach. He hated seeing the white around him on the sheets and so he looked down at his shirt instead, the green sleeves and the pants. “P-p-p-please,” Tony whispered, as if pleading the pain to go away, “H-h-hurts,”

            Loki nodded to him and walked out of the room for a moment, in spite of Tony’s soft protesting grumbles, “I’ll be right back,” he promised and went after the doctors, growling softly, “Nurse,” he called, his voice deadly. He wanted to swear and to curse at her, but instead he stayed professional, his voice calm and eyes poisonous, “I need Zolaren, Notox, Glerotin and a strong antipsychotic for the staff for thinking that Haldol and Thorazine would not only go well together but also on an empty stomach, to such an undeveloped body,” he nodded and grabbed the medicine from the nurse, ignoring her shocked expression and walking back off to Tony’s room.

            Loki entered the room and walked straight to Tony, taking his hand and putting the pills into it and handing him a glass of water, “Take these,” he murmured, squeezing his hand, “Take these, they will make you feel better,” he promised, “I will make sure you take them  every day, three times, and by the end of the month- or two, you’ll feel much better,”

            Tony whimpered as he saw the doctor walking back into the room, as for a moment, he was scared that he wouldn’t, that the other had realized how hopeless his case was and had left him for good. He looked down at the pills uncertainly, wondering if they would only cause him more pain. He decided to trust the doctor and put the pills into his mouth, drinking them down with water, spilling the liquid all over his shirt and bed beneath him. His weak hands were unable to hold the glass and he dropped it onto the bed, soaking the sheets. “S-s-s-sorry,” he rasped, the water mixing with his tears, “S-s-s-“

            Loki hushed him with a shake of his head, “Don’t be, it’s fine,” he smiled and pulled the blanket off Tony, turning it around so the wet part was where his legs were and covering the patient again, “Tell me when you start feeling better,” he told him with a soft smile, patting his back comfortingly. He felt almost guilty, ashamed of the other doctors, ashamed that there were such _assholes_ who went by the calling ‘doctor’ and claimed themselves to be capable of healing people when they harmed Case #56 so badly. He felt protective of him; Tony was _his_ case, and anyone or anything that was getting in his way; in his way of _healing_ Tony was unwelcome.

            Tony nodded once, attempting to smile even though his insides were on fire, the pills not yet helping. He grunted and moaned in pain, grateful for the pale tall man sitting next to him, the door locked. He was safe away from the doctors, and even though the agony was almost unbearable, he was happy. 


	13. Fuel

Loki raised his hand hesitantly and stroked the hair carefully, smiling softly at the other, his emerald eyes expressing true pity and grief for the patient. Tony was shaking hard, his body trembling like a leaf during a faint autumn breeze. His hands were still around his middle, his nails digging into the skin on his tummy. He grunted every once in a while, wondering why the pills weren’t working, but not letting himself think that Loki would hand him a placebo – or worse, poison. He closed his amber eyes, knowing that the brown gave away the pain that was inside and not wanting to appear as weak as he truly was. He could barely think; his mind was rushing and at the same time and it felt like it almost hurt to think. 

After a few unbearably long moments the pain slowly started to subside, and the silent tears stopped pouring down his cheek and wetting the already damp material of his shirt. He heard a soft humming coming from the doctor, and he wondered if the voice was really there or if he was imagining it for the sound was melodious and beautiful, unlike anything he had ever heard, having lived in either silence or the sound of his own blood curling screams. He closed his eyes, letting another tear rolling down his cheek as he breathed heavily. 

Loki reached over and put a hand on Tony’s shoulder, and the other could barely feel the it, his exhausted and pained mind not fully registering all that happened around him. Nevertheless he leaned into the touch, whimpering softly, his voice quiet and faint. The doctor squeezed his shoulder ever so slightly; smiling sadly at him, knowing that he could not even start to understand the amount of pain the other was in. 

Tony closed his eyes tighter and tried to calm his breathing, and Loki’s rhythmic stroking of his hair helped him through it as he focused on the unusually gentle touches – not something he had ever been used to. A soft faint smile touched his lips and he felt the pain subsiding as a dreamy haze clouded his mind, and his own hold on himself eased slightly. He fell asleep after some time, but Loki never stopped combing through the messy hair even after the patient’s breathing was slow and even, apart from the sharp inhales and soft whimpers every once in a while. 

After some time Loki moved him to the softest spot on the bed and covered him with more blankets, taking some colorful ones from his own home and wrapping them around Tony, too. He sighed quietly and decided that he would not fall asleep again just in case Tony woke up, so he sat down and looked at #56, his features soft and attentive. 

 

* * *

 

When Tony next woke up it was a few hours later, and the stomachache was fully gone. He was not well rested, but he was less tired than he had felt in years, which was a progress. He blinked sleepily as he looked around and his gaze fell onto the covers, which he pressed to himself, the colors making him happy. He nuzzled into the purple, kissing the fabric and sighing quietly, patting the blankets and then looking up at Loki, his smile widening, “D-d-d-doctor,” he stuttered and nodded once, his smile only slightly faltering as he managed to get the word out. 

Loki smiled and nodded, “Tony,” he replied back, his voice smooth like it always was but there was a hint of tiredness in it, a little trace of exhaustion in the emerald eyes. He moved to sit down on the bed and propped his feet up, yawning quietly and turning to the patient, looking down at him. He laughed shortly before reaching over and wiping away some of the drool that had trickled down Tony’s cheek – he didn’t know why he had done it, it disgusted him to see children drooling and he always explained it as bad manners, but there he was, having that unnaturally warm feeling spread in his gut again. 

Tony blushed a little, but the color was barely visible on his pale cheeks, as if the blood was too tired to flow to his face from embarrassment. “S-s-s-sorry,” he whispered with a small smile and looked down at the blankets again, wanting to wipe the rest of the wetness from his cheek but not wanting to ruin the pretty material and colors. Loki nodded once and took out his phone, calling a delivery place and ordering soup for Tony, seeing as he was incapable of eating anything else. 

Tony watched him curiously all the while, his amber eyes wide with childlike wonder and excitement, absorbing each word that fell from the thin pale lips. When Loki finished the call, he looked up at him patiently, smiling, his orbs full of questions. Loki only shook his head, forcing a polite smile, “Don’t worry, I ordered you some food that you’ll be able to eat,” he explained simply and the other did not inquire any more. 

When the food arrived and the doctor went out to get it, ignoring the looks he got from the nurses. Loki then fed Tony as carefully and tenderly as he could, since he was not accustomed to such soft and warm emotions, and it was as new to him as it was for Tony. The spoon shook slightly in his hold and the soup spilled over the edges and into the bowl under it, but Loki kept on going until Tony leaned back with a slow shake of his head, making it clear that he did not want more. Tony’s throat felt so much better and less sore, the pain that the screaming every night brought for once dulling enough to let him think. 

Tony sighed softly and looked down at his hands, feeling sick but not telling Loki, his stomach churning just a little. He was used to that kind of sickness – it was not something that was initiated by the drugs – it was just the pain of his shrunken stomach expanding to fit the new amounts of delicious food that he was offered. 

Loki put the bowl down, not hungry himself and sighed softly as he looked up at Tony. “Tell me if you want more,” he told him quietly, satisfied when the other nodded, “You can rest some more now if you like,” he added, raising an eyebrow. 

Tony nodded once and lied down on the bed again, curling up in the colorful sheets and closing his eyes. He felt empty and alone, but less than he had felt before, and having the doctor next to him, at least physically, made him feel almost braver. He hesitantly reached over and curled his small fingers around Loki’s wrist, bringing it to him and kissing his pinkie, his eyes closed so he could not see the disgust that usually followed from his touch. 

Loki only smiled quietly and let him, lying down on the bed next to him so he could get more comfortable. He closed his own eyes and they fell asleep almost simultaneously, their breathing even and soft. 


	14. Little Hero

            Tony slept soundly, a soft, faint smile on his lips as he held the doctor’s hand close to himself, almost feeling the presence of the other in his sleep. His hair was pushed out of his face and his forehead glistened softly in the dim lighting of the room. His slumber was peaceful until about the middle of the night, when the nightmares rushed into his head, his dreams of bright colors dissolving into black, darkness all around him, and those terrible grunts and moans coming from above. He held the hand in his small fingers tighter, whimpering quietly in his sleep.

            Loki awoke instantly from the pressure on his fingers and groaned softly in displeasure, looking over at Tony and realizing what was happening, by his soft cries, shaking hands, pale lips and sweat dampened, knotted eyebrows. “Hey,” he said quickly, starting to gently shake Tony, the tender shakes slowly transforming into more violent pushes as he tried to awaken him.

            Tony was only plunged further into the trance and darkness by the pushes, his hands shaking and lips trembling. “Tony! Tony!” Loki screamed at him but he would not wake.

            Slowly, #56 felt a small, growing feeling inside. It was the feeling of the _other_. He knew it so well now. His shivering got even worse and though his eyes finally darted open and he saw the worried emerald eyes staring at him, the lean fingers wrapped around his head in an attempt to comfort him, the memories from the nightmare and his life were strong in his head and he could not help but feel the _other_ growing inside of him. “Loki- other Tony-“ he whispered, trying to warn the doctor, not wanting to harm him again the way he did last time.

            Loki’s eyes were cold with understanding, and he nodded once but he felt paralyzed, unable to leave the patient. “Please,” he whispered to Tony, shaking his head, the green orbs pleading him to be strong, to force “I know you can do it,” he murmured softly, running a hand over the damp forehead, collecting the cold sweat, “Do not let him,” he instructed softly.

            Tony groaned and writhed in pain and effort to push away the fear but it only made him panic more, and he felt control slipping out of his fingers. “Run,” he managed to breathe, his back arching as he gasped and panted for air, his lungs suddenly feeling shrunken and too small to contain all the oxygen he needed.

            His thoughts were rushing, from one memory to another, all bad, not one good memory coming up in his mind – he didn’t have many good memories, at all. “Please run,” Tony groaned and threw his head back on the pillow, his body resembling a small bridge as it twisted unnaturally in pain and struggle.

            Loki cringed at the sight and moved his hands to quickly grasp Tony’s waist, pulling him down onto the bed and pressing on his chest to prevent him from rising again, “I need you to control it, you have to save me from the _other,_ Tony,” he murmured softly, feeling scared, so scared, but refusing to leave his patient.

            Tony shook his head, his eyes filled with fresh tears. His insides were on fire and his heart felt like it was going to bounce out of his chest and he could almost _hear_ the voice of the other Tony inside of him, almost sense his skin turning colder like it usually did when he came, or that was what it felt like. Loki’s hands on his waist made him think of the other doctor’s hands, his hairy, muscular hands and he seized harder, screaming out in protest.

            “Please, do it for me, Tony,” Loki said carefully, grabbing Tony’s chin and holding it so that the other was looking into his eyes, his own jade ones soft and pleading, “You need to save me,” he said once again, not caring as a small streak of drool rolled out of Tony’s mouth and down his chin, dribbling into Loki’s hand.

            Tony’s screams got louder and his body twisted further, but the doctor’s skilled hands kept him from hurting himself. Tony knew he had to do it, knew that it was the least he could do after the other trusted him. He wished he could die right then and there, so that no one would be hurt, not the doctor and not any of the doctors to follow, so that the world would finally be free of the monster that was Tony.

            He gasped out one final time, pushing the _other_ down, trying hard to compress him, shoving him back into the layers and layers of his dark and forever grieving mind. When he was sure he was done he fell back down against the bed, his eyes shut and his drool still flowing out of his mouth, along with some blood from when he had bitten his tongue mid-seizure. He slipped, again, into a coma-like state, only breathing softly.

            Loki shook his head and pressed his lips into a hard line, sighing softly and running a hand through the other’s hair, using the back of his hand to wipe away his saliva running down his mouth and cleaning his hand with the sheets. “Sleep,” he sighed, “Little hero,” he murmured and hesitantly leaned in to press a small kiss to Tony’s forehead. He didn’t know why he did it – because he was so lonely that even this kind of contact with a mad patient was somehow special, or because maybe, just maybe, the reason why he risked his life, the reason why he never told anyone about his case with #56, not even to boast about his commitment like he usually would, the reason why he allowed himself sleep with someone who was so close and yet so far from a stranger was because, perhaps, he was more than his doctor. And Tony was more than just a patient. Just a number.


	15. Angel

           Tony slept for days, his breathing soft and even, steady as his pulse. Loki stayed by his side, sometimes falling asleep with him on the bed, sometimes in the chair next to it as he waited for the other to awaken. He saw the looks he got from the doctors, he knew they all judged him, all thought that he was just another one to _touch_ Tony, a hypocrite. But for once, Loki couldn’t care less about what people thought of him. For once, all he wanted was to be left alone, at least for some time, at least for long enough to make sure that Tony would heal. 

He hooked him up to an IV machine when it seemed like he was asleep for too long, fearing that the lack of nutrition and vitamins in his blood would cause issues far more serious than they could handle. He wasn’t willing to take risks, and he promised himself that he would disconnect the chords when Tony opened his eyes, not wanting to scare him. 

Three days after the happening, Tony awoke in the middle of the night. For once, he awoke without gasping or screaming, as he did not dream during the period, only slept, his mind switched off. He looked around, his eyes bloodshot and tired, his hands still shaking and lips pale. In spite of the necessary food he was getting through the IV machine, he was still hungry and lost even more weight, which made his eyes look sunken and his hands much like claws. Loki couldn’t help but feel guilty – maybe if he had just left the room, just let Tony transform into the _other_ , he would not have suffered quite so much.

Loki smiled faintly, looking up at the patient and nodding one in recognition. His own eyes looked sunken as he had not slept for long, and each time he did manage to fall asleep, the slightest sound made him snap back to reality. “Morning, Tony,” he rasped, though it was dark outside, but he had lost count of days, hours, “How are you feeling?” he asked softly, his voice a rasp. 

Tony nodded once, forcing a faint, barely-there smile onto his lips. “Good, doctor,” he whispered, raising his small white hand and trying to pull the chords out of his nose and veins, not liking the feeling of them. Slowly he started to shake as he realized that the strings of clear plastic were buried inside of him, inside of his arms, and the liquid dripping from the container was flowing into his blood. “Please, no,” he whispered, trying to tear them out and Loki quickly stood up, nodding once and moving his hands away to replace them with his own, taking out the needles and chords quickly. 

Tony choked and gasped from the sensation, the pain and relief overflowing him. He watched the doctor roll the IV machine away and coughed quietly, clearing his throat and plopping back down onto the bed. “Would you like soup again?” Loki asked faintly, pointing to the cold bowl of soup standing on the bedside table. He had brought one in for each meal of every day, sometimes even four or five times per day, in hopes that Tony would wake up hungry and eat the broth. 

           Tony nodded once, looking over at the cup cautiously. “Here,” the other sighed and got up to get the bowl and carried it to Tony, “It’s a little cold,” he murmured, pressing the ceramic edge to the trembling lips, his own hands quivering ever so slightly. He watched as the patient slowly drank the soup, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed the liquid. He pulled away after some time, his smile a little stronger. 

Loki chuckled and raised his hand to wipe away the small bit of soup that was glistening on the edge of Tony’s lips, then cleaning his hand on the green bed sheets. “Tell me if you want more,” he repeated his words softly, setting the bowl onto the bedside table with a small clink. He then moved to sit on the bed, yawning quietly, wanting to go home to sleep for a long time. But he knew that he would not be able to sleep without knowing for sure that Tony was safe. 

#56 shuffled to give Loki a little more space on the bed, watching him the whole time. He outstretched his hand weakly to trace the huge purple bags under Loki’s eyes, frowning and clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Not pretty,” he murmured quietly, remembering how smooth, pale and flawless the face had been when he first came, and how crumpled, tired and grey it looked now. “My-my fault?” he asked gently, cocking his head. 

Loki quickly shook his own, pressing his lips into a hard line and swallowing hard, “Of course not,” he mumbled, knotting his elegant eyebrows. His shirt was stained with a bit of bile from one of the nights Tony threw up. It had been to long since he had taken a shower. “Tony,” he sighed, “It’s not your fault, you are blamed too often for things have not done.” he told him, and saw how the brown eyes were filled with disbelief and guilt, “I promise you,” he smiled weakly.

Tony looked up at Loki, shaking his head slowly but not saying anything, not wanting to make the green in his eyes any more empty. He fumbled with his hands in his lap, sighing and realizing that he had not been raped in almost a week now, and that was a record for him. He looked back up at his doctor, his faint smile growing a little. The white on Loki’s coat seemed to be so different from everyone else’s, so much _purer_ , though he knew it was the same white, just a different doctor. “Loki,” Tony said the name quietly, as if to try it out on his tongue, “You,” he murmured, pointing to his chest and poking it softly, “Are an angel,” he concluded. In his mind, he truly believed that – he remembered the stories from his childhood, the stories of saint creatures descending and helping mankind, the stories of how beautiful and pure they were, how soft their skin was and the white that radiated off them. Loki was his angel; he knew it for sure, for as much as it was possible. And he knew that it was not just another fib of the immature mind, “Angel,” he repeated, for once, looking almost peaceful. 


	16. Fat Bastard

           “Angel?” Loki repeated, his voice almost as soft as Tony’s. He was almost sure he had heard it wrong, for it was so… wrong, for him to be called that. He knew he was far from a good person, and he felt like he was lying, deceiving Tony into thinking that he was better than what he really was. “No, no, Tony,” he chuckled dryly, shaking his head, his greasy dark hair shaking with it, “I’m just a doctor,”

           “No,” Tony said stubbornly, his eyebrows knotting slightly, his face crumpling a little, “Angel,” he repeated, his voice a little louder, almost as if he was trying to convince Loki. All the doctor could do was to smile softly in return, his heart clenching at the strong emotions. He wanted to protest again, parting his lips but realizing that he didn’t want to. Being someone so important and so good to Tony made him almost like he was. He nodded once and rubbed his forehead with his pale palm, clearing his throat.

           #56 moved forward and patted Loki on his cheek, a little childish smile on his lips, his hair messed up from sleep. “Don’t frown, angel,” he whispered, shaking his head, “Don’t frown,” he repeated, his forehead creasing a little. He moved back and folded his hands in his lap again, wondering if he had gone too far, scared that he disgusted his angel with his bony hands and croaky voice.

           Loki’s smile remained as faint but his eyes brightened up, the delicate eyebrows raising in a hint of surprise, “Tony,” he sighed softly, reaching over and patting the other on the cheek just as he had done to him, “You’re too good for this world,” he smiled, and as he spoke those words he knew they were true, Tony was too innocent, too right. He dropped his hand in the same way Tony did, sighing. “I need to shower, do you think you’ll be fine?” he asked softly, his head itching from the filthiness, “I’ll be back in ten minutes,” he smiled, getting up and stretching next to the bed, his small, skinny frame looking even thinner than before.

           Tony nodded once, not telling his doctor how scared he was of being all alone again, how much he disliked being caged between these horrible white walls. The blood and the scratch marks were much darker than before, and it resembled black too much, and once again it all looked so monochrome. “Go,” he nodded in approval, shuffling back on his bed and covering himself in the covers, pulling them over his shoulders and wishing to disappear in them, “I’m a big boy,” he smiled proudly, his skinny, tired face suggesting anything but.

           Loki smiled sadly at him and the contrast and nodded, walking out of the room and towards the bathroom, his steps faint. He realized that he had not exited the hospital in almost a week now, the white walls being anything but welcoming, and yet he stayed.

           He walked into the bathrooms, hating the stench and the torn and stained shower curtains. He stripped silently, dropping his clothes by the sink and entering the shower, switching the water on. Though the water was far from pleasant, jumping from cold to warm, never hot, he still felt his muscles relaxing. His mind slowly relaxed, too, his thoughts stopped rushing around, and his hands was not shivering anymore as he combed through his inky black hair.

           One of the doctors with the chubby hands and a beer belly watched as Loki walked away into the bathroom, and followed him in, just to make sure that he reached the showers. He closed the door to keep the sounds out, not daring to lock it, knowing that this would be too suspicious. He walked slowly back to room #56, his fingers clenching and unclenching in expectation, eager to unzip his pants, to throw his belt off after giving that pale, skinny ass a good beating and thrusting into him again. He hardened just at the thought of it, and opened the door, cocking his head at the figure in the sheets.

           Tony’s heart stopped in his chest, his lips going cold and his face even paler. “N-no,” he whispered, shaking his head, “Angel will be here soon,” he rasped, as if to reassure himself, holding the sheets to his nose to hide his face from the bad man.

           A small, throaty laugh escaped the doctor’s fat lips and he moved towards him, sitting down on the bed with a smile almost gentle and sweet, but not quite. “Come here, sit on my lap,” he cooed, reaching out slowly and grasping Tony hard by his hair, dragging him unhurriedly to him, down onto his lap. “He’s not here now, he ran away you know,” he whispered softly, knowing that the patient could hear him perfectly fine, “He doesn’t want you, the first chance he got, he ran out of here,”

           Tony shook his head, tears falling from his eyes in large drops, “N-no, n-n-no,” he wailed, every movement of his head hurt because his hair that was still clutched by the doctor. He felt a building pain inside, the pain of loss. He refused to believe him, Loki said he had gone out for a shower, and angels never lied, he knew that for sure from his stories. And Loki was an angel. Loki wouldn’t lie.

           “Yes, yes,” the doctor mimicked his sweet, soft tone, nodding and unzipping his pants slowly, throwing Tony onto the ground before him with one movement, “I am very kind to you, Tony,” he chuckled, shaking his head and holding the other’s head in place as he freed his erection, groaning softly, “I am so very kind to you, and now it’s time to pay me back,” he nodded.

           Tony sobbed brokenly, shaking his head and trying to move away from the doctor, trying to pull his head out of the tight hold, not wanting to be touched again. “P-please,” he whispered, closing his eyes shut so he at least didn’t have to see man, didn’t have to watch as he was humiliated over and over again.  
He felt the presence of the other Tony inside of him, but now that he knew he could, he wasn’t going to let him in, for Loki. Even though he wasn’t here, there was something – someone in his life to do this for, someone to be good for, and someone to aspire to. He stayed silent, not daring to scream for help, for his angel, like he wanted to, only whimpering quietly, letting a few pained gasps for breath fall from his lips. He wished this would be his final time, that he would not have to endure this anymore, that he would not have to see the hurt in Loki’s eyes when he found out, even if that meant dying, because after all that he’s been through, such an escape didn’t seem to be such a bad idea, after all.


	17. Home

Loki slowly stepped out of the shower, enjoying the breeze he felt on his wet skin. He sighed softly and got dressed, not liking the feeling of slipping back into his dirty, old clothes after such a refreshing shower. He sighed and moved to comb through his hair slowly, taking his time, washing some of the shed hairs down the drain. He had never lost hair before, but he figured it was from all the stress involving Tony. He sighed softly, hating how unprofessional he was being, how seriously he was taking this case. 

The doctor slowly dried his hair with the towel, humming quietly to himself before his thoughts travelled back to Tony and worry rose in his chest again. He cursed himself and threw the towel onto the floor for the cleaning ladies to pick up, and walked out of the room and to #56. 

When his pale hands pushed the door open, what he saw in front of him made his breath hitch in his throat, his throat going dry. For a moment he was paralyzed and his hand clasped around the door handle, his nails growing white with the pressure. A small gasped fell from his lips, emerald eyes wide with horror and his chest rising and falling quickly. 

The other doctor’s chubby fingers were knotted in the chocolate brown hair, holding it in place as he pushed hard into it, each grunt followed by a muffled choking sound and loud groans and pants from the greasy lips. He almost saw the dirty nails dig into the scalp of Tony’s head, and a wave of nausea washed over him. The small body kneeling on the floor looked weak, in surrender. There were drops of blood on the floor, undoubtedly falling from his mouth, and his hands were limp by his sides, completely given in. His back was slumped, and though his face was hidden, Loki knew it was almost blank, almost emotionless, but the amber eyes exploding with pain, hurt and the wish to finally die. 

For a moment Loki was completely still but the next he charged at the doctor, pushing him back and not caring to check if he was alright as he screamed, falling off the bed and down onto the floor, hitting his head hard on the bedside table on the other side and growing quiet. Tony fell limp when the hands were no longer holding his head upright and Loki could see a mix of saliva, bile, come and crimson blood flowing from his mouth and onto the floor as his eyes rolled back in his head. “Loki,” he whispered, his voice pained, “S-s-s-sorry,” he moaned and the doctor shook his head, his eyes tearing up for the first time in such a long time as pain seized his heart. 

“Don’t, don’t,” he groaned and he gently picked the patient up like a baby, swinging the two small legs on either side of his torso and hooking his arms around him, holding him like an infant. He quickly picked him up and patted his back as he rocked his body, as if comforting him would help, as if telling him it was alright would somehow change anything.  Tony groaned softly, his lungs hurting and his mouth feeling like it was on fire, his throat sore. “A-angel,” he whispered quietly, wanting to reach out and wrap his arms around Loki but feeling too weak to do so. He could still feel the hard member in his mouth, the triangle of hair moving back and forth, back and forth…

Loki shushed him again, shaking his head and kissing his shoulder, the only body part he could manage to reach in the tight embrace, “Shh,” he whispered, shaking his head, a small tear running down his cheek as he realized how much pain, suffering and mental hardship the poor patient had to go through. “Poor little hero,” he murmured, wanting to wrap his arms around him and never let go, never let anyone else get to him. “You didn’t let the _other_ in,” he whispered, “I’m so proud, so proud of you,” he kept on cooing, pacing around the room with Tony in his arms, not hearing the groans of pain and displeasure coming from the doctor in the corner. 

Tony nodded, smiling faintly at the praise, managing to feel somehow _good_ even in that moment, with his lips bleeding, lungs aching and hands shaking, “Th-thank you,” he whispered in response, closing his eyes and resting his head on the bony shoulder, ready to give in, ready to let his soul leave his body, knowing that he would be punished for his sins, like the doctors always told him, but hoping that hell would at least be better than what he had to endure on earth. 

“No, no,” Loki whispered, shaking his head. He pulled the patient back to look into his amber eyes, holding his cheek so that he could keep his focus on himself, “No, Tony,” he murmured again, “This will not happen again,” he promised him, knowing that the other had every right not to believe him, “I’m taking you home, to _my_ home,” 


	18. Dr. Fury

Tony’s eyes widened as the doctor pulled him back and spoke the magical word – a word he never truly knew the meaning of but always wished to. Home. His cheeks were glistening with tears and cum, and his lips were colored crimson with his own blood but his amber eyes, aside from the soul wrenching pain and terror, showed a small, barely visible hint of hope. “H-h-h-home?” he stuttered, a drop of blood falling off the bottom lip as it quivered. 

            Loki nodded once and moved his hand to swipe away the tears and semen off his cheek, then moving to wipe his hand on his white coat. “Home,” he murmured in agreement, emerald orbs soft and apologetic with concern and regret. “I’m sorry I let this happen,” he offered, knowing that a sorry was not going to fix much, not now. He hugged Tony again; pressing his fragile body against himself, to comfort him but to also to egoistically rid himself from the need to stare into the deep sad amber of his eyes. 

“Th-th-th-tha-th-“ Tony stuttered to get the word out but Loki patted him gently on his back to let him know he didn’t have to, that he understood. The patient was crying again, tears hot, burning his cheeks as they slid down them and onto Loki’s white coat, staining it. “S-s-s-sorry,” he whispered as his shaking hands moved to wipe away the drops of blood and his own tears, knotting his eyebrows as all he did was spread the stains, “S-sorry, sorry,” he sobbed, rubbing the material harder. 

Loki pulled him back and frowned, shaking his head, “Don’t, it’s fine,” he told him, forcing a reassuring smile. He parted his lips to say something else but there was a low, noisy grunt that came from the corner of the room where the so called doctor was, and Tony yelped in pain and fear and clutched harder onto Loki. 

Loki wrapped his arms around Tony and didn’t give the doctor a second look as he stormed out of the room and to the reception of the hospital, holding onto the patient firmly, feeling his body rake with sobs and shivers. From the half-confused half-understanding looks he was getting from the nurses he could tell the rape was planned, and he couldn’t help but feel a wave of hatred and contempt wash over him. He carried Tony to the reception, holding onto him as he banged his fist on the hard wood of the desk to call the concierge. 

Seconds later a young teenager with hair pulled back into a ponytail, absent look and a lopsided hat rushed in, her eyes wide in surprise. “Darcy, how may I help you?” she whined, and in that moment, her voice was more irritating to Loki than anything. 

“There’s an unconscious child-molesting doctor in room #56,” he snapped, feeling Tony cringed in his arms, perhaps from his cold tone as he spoke to the receptionist, or maybe it was from the mention of the damned room number, “If you don’t deal with him, I will,” Loki growled, his emerald eyes piercing the girl’s. She seemed horrifying, her mouth hanging open with the gum visible between her teeth. One of the nurses, who were nearby, gasped at the words and quickly rushed to the room, whispering curses and threats under his breath. 

“Now listen,” Loki hissed when the nurse was no longer in sight, “I’m taking full legal guardianship over this patient,” he told her, and felt Tony freeze in his arms, knowing that he could understand very little of what he was saying. His coat was soaked from the back with the tears and he could feel his soft, warm breathing into his shoulder, his limbs wrapped tightly around him. The other doctors were staring at them, giving them narrow looks and click of tongue in disapproval, and that only made Tony cling tighter to him, hiding his face in the crook of the pale neck. 

Darcy seemed stunned for a moment as his words registered, and Loki almost feared that she would refuse, since the hospital did have a right to do that. She took the phone and dialed a number as Loki waited, his glare fixated on her and moments later, a tall, black man in a worn-out brown suit walked in, one of the sides of his gold-plated glasses covered with a white bandage. 

“Dr. Fury,” he introduced himself, and his voice was raspy and revolting. He outstretched his hand for Loki to shake but the other only stared at it, his lips twitching in disgust. “I see you want to be #56’s legal guardian,” he spoke again, his brown eye small and lifeless. “I’m afraid that would be impossible,” he concluded with a small shrug and Tony, who had understood that part of the conversation, cringed and started crying quietly again, already hating the new man by his voice and words. 

“Oh, it’s going to be very possible,” Loki smiled sarcastically and took a step towards the other, “I need all the papers I have to sign, now, _doctor_ ,” he hissed the last word, cocking his head. Even with Tony wrapped around him, Loki looked dominant and presiding. 

Dr. Fury watched him for a moment before dropping his false smile, the brown of his orbs darkening, becoming somehow meaner. “Listen, _doctor_ ,” he mimicked Loki’s voice, baring his yellow, stained teeth as he spoke, “This little shit right here,” he pointed to the wiry figure wrapped around Loki, “Is one of our biggest incomes,” he told him, tilting his head to one of the bony shoulders, “Dirty doctors from all over the state come to this shitty village just to have a go, just to fuck him, because they know no one’s going to find out,” he raised his eyebrows carelessly, shrugging, “He’s our income,” 

Loki narrowed his eyes, his lips parting in repugnance and sincere loathing for the other and the whole hospital. Tony was sobbing again, but his cries were muffle by the coat. “If you don’t give me all the necessary papers, now,” Loki murmured, his voice calm and unshaken, masking his inner chaos, “Then I will get a lawyer, take this to court, and make sure that every penny is drained from this hospital, and _you,”_ He whispered the last part, raising his eyebrows slightly, “Go to prison for the rest of your piteous life,” 

Dr. Fury looked a little surprised for a moment, and his chin quivered slightly as Loki’s words set in. He looked the other doctor over, as if to make sure that he meant what he was saying, that he was not bluffing. For a long moment, all that could be heard were Tony’s cries and whimpers. After the pause, there was a soft sigh falling off the unshaven mouth and he nodded once, lowering his gaze. “Darcy give him the papers,” he snapped at the receptionist who instantly nodded and fumbled around. “This is not over,” Fury hissed, his voice a low growl as he looked over Tony and then Loki, “You know what will happen?” he asked, the brown of his eye glistening with hatred, “He will have a fit, and you will be there,” he said, his voice soft, as if he was telling a story, and he intentionally refrained from using complicated words, so that the patient could understand, too, “And when the _other_ comes, he wont be able to control himself, and he will _end_ you, his precious doctor,” 

With those words Loki swallowed hard, Tony’s cries getting a little softer and more muffled. He watched the black silhouette leave, the tail of his white coat barely moving as he walked. 

“Here… sir,” Darcy mumbled, sliding the papers over to the two, and the doctor sighed quietly, shaking his head and getting a pen from the desk. 


	19. Hotel Room

After Loki filled the papers out he turned to walk back to the room #56, to get all of his and Tony’s clothes, but stopped halfway, changing his mind. He sighed and patted the patient’s back, “We’re not returning to the room, not now, not ever,” he murmured softly and walked to the door to finally walk out of the cursed place. 

As he walked to his car in the parking lot, where it had been for quite some time now, he realized that Tony’s muffled sobs no longer rang in his ear, replaced by smaller, softer sounds. He pulled back a little to see that the soft, pinkish face was now planting small, sloppy kisses, wherever the bloodied lips could reach, whispering small thanks. Loki’s features softened and he felt his heart clench with sadness and affection for the small man in his arms. “It’s alright,” he patted his back, emerald gaze soft, “It’s okay, we’re going home now,” 

Loki opened the car and gently slid Tony into the backseat, peeling him off himself, “Tony, you need to let go,” he chuckled quietly, pushing him back gently. Tony cried out softly in response, shaking his head and clinging harder to Loki. The doctor sighed and shook his head, and moved to sit in the driver’s seat, letting Tony stay in his lap as he started the car. Inside, he felt a small voice blaming him for being unprofessional and letting his emotions get in the way, causing him to not only act on impulse but to also break the rules for the patient in his arms. He shook the thoughts away, understanding that now that he had signed his name on the bottom of the legal guardianship papers, this was no way to think of Tony. 

He drove home in silence, listening onto to Tony’s small sobs and kisses, feeling the blood from the trembling lips drop onto his lab coat now and then. He couldn’t help but feel like he was going to regret this decision; the patient in his arms had killed and hurt so many, but he was only Tony – the Tony who held the other back for his doctor, the Tony who cried after every time the _other_ came, blaming himself for not holding him back. He was _his_ Tony. 

Loki drove up to the hotel he was staying in for the time being and walked out of the car, holding Tony in his arms and walked up to his room. He felt Tony freeze and duck to avoid any contact with the others, clutching harder onto his coat. He closed the door behind him and sighed softly, unsure of what was going to happen, but glad that Tony was with him. “Tony,” he called softly as he moved the patient away from him and gentle placed him on the bed, watching him quickly curl into a cocoon, surrounding himself with the bed sheets, “This is not my home, this is the hotel room I am staying in,” he explained quietly, “Now that you’re with me, I can fly back home now, but I want you to come,” he smiled, knowing that Tony didn’t have a choice but wanting to make him think he did, “Can you come with me?” 

Tony nodded quickly, not speaking as he looked around the hotel room, absorbing the pretty colors and patterns on the walls. He shuffled out of the sheets and scrambled onto Loki’s lap, holding him tightly, “A-a-angel,” he mumbled quietly, patting his back. 

Loki smiled and kissed the top of his head, sighing. He felt his exhaustion slowly sinking in and looked down at Tony, seeing his eyes slowly closing. “We need to clean you up, and then sleep,” he patted Tony’s shoulder, pulling him away again, “You shower first, and I’ll go after,” he murmured and as he spoke the words he realized that would be impossible. He shook his head dismissively at himself and picked the patient up again; carrying him to the bathroom and starting the water, glad to feel the warm liquid run through his fingers. 

Tony edged away from the water, looking down at his hands instantly and shaking his head, remembering what had happened the last time he tried to take a shower. But as he looked up at Loki, saw how hard he was trying to make the water smell nice with the salts and soap, he sighed quietly and stripped, moving his clothes into a neat pile and limping over to Loki, his arms wrapped around his small body for cover. 

Loki looked over at him and gestured to the tub, patting the water with his hand, making small splash sounds. He carefully and slowly moved to pick Tony up and place him into the lukewarm water, and the other didn’t mind, sighing softly as the warmth surrounded him. “I’ll be here this time,” he said quietly and reached for the shampoo, squeezing some onto Tony’s head. “This is for your hair,” he said as he massaged his scalp softly, making sure to apply enough pressure to wash the filth of  many years out. #56 relaxed against his touch, sighing softly again and looking down at the water and the small bubbles in it, grateful that they covered his bruised and small body under the water. Once Loki was done with his hair he moved to take the shower gel, and took Tony’s hand, squirting some onto it. “I’ll wash your back and shoulders, and you can wash anything under that, deal?” he asked quietly, he didn't want to make Tony uncomfortable. 

Tony nodded in response, looking down at the gel in his hand and frowning at the similarities it had with- he pushed the thought away and started washing himself, his hand weak, trying as hard as he could to make himself clean for Loki so he wouldn’t be disgusted with hugging him. He hummed nonsense to himself, making up melodies, bringing a soft smile to the doctor’s lips. 

            When they were done Loki grabbed a towel and dragged Tony out of the tub, wrapping the material around him and unlocking the door, ready to take him to bed. “I’ll shower and join you in a second, alright?” he asked, his voice barely a murmur, to what Tony quickly shook his head. 

“N-no, not alone,” he murmured softly, shaking his head. 

“You’re scared of sleeping alone?” Loki asked, his voice sweet rather than mocking. 

“N-no,” Tony tried to explain, “Scared th-that you’ll drown,” he pointed to the tub, his eyes wide with fear as he remembered the way he had almost swallowed too much water whilst in the hospital. 

Loki raised his eyebrows in surprise, his gut warming at the fact that Tony cared so much about him. “Okay, you can wait here,” he told him, patting his back and walking him to the toilet, lowering the lid and sitting him down on it. The patient nodded silently and sat down, watching Loki as he emptied the tub of the dirty water and filled it again. The amber gaze dropped to the rug as Loki took his clothes off and back to the tub once he was in the water. Tony smiled at how graceful Loki looked as he showered, the elegant fingers brushing through his hair, washing off the stains of blood from his shoulders and neck. The water carried all the dirt away, along with the creases of worry and anger on Loki’s face, and he looked so much younger when he exited, wrapping the towel around his waist. 

 


	20. Sleep, Little Hero

Loki picked Tony up and carried him to the bed, without any protesting this time, and put him down, watching as he squirmed around for a while before settling down, touching the soft silky material of the covers and smiling in appreciation to himself. 

            The doctor walked to the closet and pulled on his green, stripy pajamas silently, glad to be able to sleep properly, in his sleepers and in a soft bed. He sighed and yawned, picking ones for Tony and handing them over. “Here, wear this,” he smiled, “They’re the warmest I have,” he added, remembering how much Tony liked warmth. 

Tony took the clothes into his shaky hands, childlike happiness in the ambers eyes as he whispered small ‘thanks’ and pulled them on eagerly, snuggling into their warmth. He moved off the bed and crawled to the floor, to the corner of the room, not realizing that the bed was meant for both of them. He sat silently, humming contentedly as he chewed on the sleeve of the bright orange shirt, watching Loki put on his nightclothes. 

When Loki saw where the patient was he laughed dryly to himself and padded over to him, his bare feet slapping quietly against the parquet. “No, no, Tony, the bed is for you, too,” he smiled to him and picked him up from the corner, carrying him to the bed and placing him down. 

Tony’s eyes widened in surprise and he let a small smile touch his lips as he quickly moved to wrap himself in the sheets. He didn’t bother to take the covers off the bed, using them as blankets to get warmer. He patted the side of the bed next to him with a small smile, inviting Loki to lie down next to him. 

Loki obliged and crawled into the bed tiredly, yawning quietly and covering his mouth politely with his hand. He collapsed against the soft cushions and pillows, closing his eyes and pressing against the cool fabric that had not yet been warmed by their bodies. He wondered idly if he could trust Tony, sleeping with him _again_ , in spite of what had already happened. But opening his eyes to find the amber ones watching him silently, a faint smile on the scarred lips and his features relaxed, the doctor decided that he didn’t care about the _other_ , because right now, he was with Tony. 

#56 watched as the doctor fell asleep, his eyebrows relaxing, the knots between them going away. He heard his breathing soften, becoming more even and soft, like a rhythmic melody to his ears. Loki trusted him, enough to keep him, enough to let him stay and sleep in his bed. He extended his shaking hand to brush some hair off Loki’s face, smiling quietly at how much joy it brought to him, to be able to touch Loki. 

He felt so much for him it made him dizzy when he thought of it, and it was all positive. In spite of his low moral development, Tony was not stupid, and he saw how Loki looked away when he thought no one was looking, the way his eyebrows creased in pain and worry, even when things were going according to plan. And Tony wanted to shield his doctor from all of it, from all the bad things and bad men in the world. 

Quietly, he reached under the covers to fish Loki’s hand out and pressed it against his own chest, kissing each one of the fingers, from the thumb to the pinkie and back. He felt happier than he had ever felt, and there was nowhere else Tony would rather be. He closed his eyes, and though he was still cold, his throat still ached and terror was still clawing at the back of his mind from the memories, he fell asleep in seconds, comforting by the presence of his doctor next to him, with no nightmares to plague his mind, no pain or worry in his peaceful slumber. 

 


	21. Even Angels Have Nightmares

Loki’s peaceful slumber was interrupted with nightmares in the middle of the night. Not at one point of his life Loki could confidently state that he was sane, yet doctor was the profession he went for. The doctor’s mind was troubled with angry memories of his past, but they appeared quite rarely, for he had buried them so deep it was hard for the demons to resurface. But Tony had managed to dig them up, with his own story of an abusive childhood and a careless father, and there Loki was, panting in the middle of the night, having woken up with a start, a small cry of pain and fear escaping his lips. 

It took more than a moment for the doctor to calm down, his heart beating fast, his mind rushing. Tears were already flowing down his cheeks, but they were not his tears, they were the tears of the abandoned little boy he once used to be, and he barely felt them as they burned their way down his cheek, wetting the covers. He clutched his head, running his fingers through his sweat dampened hair, groaning as his headache started and his veins on his forehead pulsed almost audibly. His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt sick, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to throw up, his stomach clenching painfully. 

Tony’s small head popped up from beneath the covers he head buried himself in and it took him a moment to understand what was happening. When he did he watched him for a second longer, trying to figure out if he should leave him be or talk to him. But then Tony remembered all of the nights that he had woken up from his sleep, screaming his lungs out and begging for the doctors to let him out, and how no one had listened. So he quickly moved to Loki’s side, weakly tugging at the hem of his shirt. 

Loki was at first started but when he turned around to see the amber eyes, his own emerald ones so bright they practically lit up the room with their shine, a soft apologetic smile touched his lips and he shook his head, “Go to sleep,” he ordered, his voice strict but barely a murmur, doubtful and uncertain, “I am sorry I have woken you up,” he added with a soft raise of his eyebrows. 

A kind, tender smile spread on Tony’s face and he smiled, shaking his head, “Angel,” he murmured softly and moved closer to Loki, not caring of how disgusted or ashamed Loki might be of hugging him, knowing that in such times everyone needed support, even though not everyone got it. “Angel, its okay,” he cooed softly, his own voice a rasp, thickened by the sleep. He patted his back, his head with his soft messy hair on Loki’s skinny chest. “It’s okay, Angel,” he repeated, petting the back of Loki’s neck and looking up into the green orbs, “You’re kind, and pretty, and good, and bad things don’t happen to angels,” he murmured quietly, trying to mimic a smart expression and nodding as if in confirmation of his own words. 

Loki only chuckled sadly in response, the laugh sounding more like a sob rather than a sound of joy. “Angel,” he repeated his own nickname, but frowned, not liking how impure and false it sounded, falling off his own lips, deciding that the small, full mouth said it much better than his own. He patted Tony’s hair, kissing his forehead. He could feel his hands on his own back, his sweaty nightshirt pressed against the small palms. “You’re a sweet boy,” he whispered softly, knowing that he deserved none of the kindness. 

Tony smiled gently and tugged at Loki’s shirt, “Wet,” he said quietly, “You became wet, I become wet too, sometimes,” he smiled proudly at the similarity. In response the doctor nodded and pulled his shirt off, revealing his skinny body. He reached into the bedside table for a new shirt and pulled it on shakily, his hands trembling. Tony helped him pull the shirt on, tugging it down with as much power as he could, which really wasn’t much. 

Once Loki was changed into the new shirt he threw the old one onto the floor and Tony had to stop himself from not running over to it to smooth the material out, saving the pretty colors from getting dirty. Instead he gave Loki another hug and pulled him back down onto the bed, humming quietly. 

Loki found this oddly comforting; in the back of his mind there was a voice screaming for him to stop – he was the doctor, and yet it was his patient now who was making him feel better, saving him from himself. But he couldn’t care less about the little voice, because he was truly happy in that moment. He found himself poking his strong nose into Tony’s neck as the other wrapped his arms around his head, and he breathed in the Tony scent that he grew accustomed to, the one thing that was so pleasant about the hospital, and now about the cold hotel room. 

Tony pulled the covers over Loki, patting them down and smoothing them out carefully, taking pride in the fact that he had calmed his angel down. He kissed the top of his head again sloppily, guiltily taking advantage of the fact that Loki didn’t seem to care. He brushed through the thick black hair, yawning to himself. In spite of his tiredness, Tony could feel Loki’s heart still beating fast. “Good things happen to angels, you’re an angel,” he whispered softly into his ear, and felt the doctor relax in his small wiry arms, “You’re a very good angel, so now, good things will come,” he kept on repeating, over and over again, even after Loki had fallen asleep, wishing that someone had done the same for him and thanking heavens for the opportunity to do it to someone now, especially to his very own angel. 

Tony stayed up late, repeating the words until he fell asleep, his lips still parted mid-speech and his hands knotted in Loki’s hair from when he was brushing through it. In that moment, Loki looked like a lost, confused child and it was Tony's turn to calm him, his eyebrows creased, the amber in his eyes looking far too dark and worn out for his young age. 


	22. The Clock

Tony woke up before Loki, but stayed still, combing through the dark hair silently, singing nonsense songs into his ear softly, barely audibly. It seemed that the sleep made him so much healthier, the circles under his eyes were fainter and his small twitching lips were no longer as pale. His hair was still messy on his head, strands poking out in different directions, but it no longer looked as dry and dull, not wildly contrasting his face anymore.

Loki woke up when the alarm on his watch rang, loud and shrill under his ear. He opened his eyes and switched it off lazily, turning around in Tony’s arms and freezing as he saw that he was awake. “Hey,” he muttered softly and got up, once again understanding that he had let himself show his weakness and slip into unprofessionalism last night. He moved away from Tony and got up, ignoring the pang of pain he felt from the soft hurt in the hopeful amber eyes. 

“G-good morning,” Tony nodded to him and sat up on the bed, stretching his undeveloped body. He pulled the covers over him, the morning cold making him shiver. 

“I’m going to go shower, and then I have to go to work,” Loki nodded to him, hating that he had to return to the damned hospital, “I need to find a new patient, since you don’t count as one anymore,” he smiled at him dryly and walked off into the bathroom, stripping and washing his hair quickly before walking back to the wardrobe and getting dressed hurriedly. He walked to the bedside table and picked his keys off the wooden surface, stealing a glance at the bronze large clock that was sitting across from it. He promised himself, just like he did every morning, that he would fix the clock that had not been working for a year now, the two arrows still in their places. 

“Bye,” Loki called to him and for the first time in the morning realized that he was leaving an insane patient alone in his hotel room. He sighed and walked over to him, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Do not exit the room, do not try to shower or preferably even wash your hands, the water can be hot, if you break something, walk away from it, and don’t panic,” he told him softly, “You can watch TV,” he added, giving him the remote, “Please don’t do anything silly,” he asked him before turning around once again and exiting through the door, locking it behind him just in case and heading off to work. 

Once Loki left Tony crawled under the covers, tears rushing to his eyes again as he felt lonely and abandoned but he told himself that he was a big boy now, and safe, too. He sighed and switched the TV on, instantly surprised by the loud sound blaring from the speakers and quickly pressed the buttons, switching channels and eventually managing to lower the sound. He watched the moving pictures for a while not understanding what the people were saying or the letters flashing on the screen but he found it interesting to see the smiling or crying faces, the strange machines and bright colors. 

            Eventually he needed to go to the bathroom and stood up shakily from the bed, walking silently to the washroom and doing his business, careful not to make a mess and flushing the toilet after himself, carefully washing his hands in the sink, remembering that Loki used blue to make the water colder. When he was done he padded out of the bathroom and walked back to the bed, but as he crawled under the covers his foot caught the big bronze clock on the bedside table and it flew down onto the ground, the screen falling out and rolling to the side as the insides spread out on the floor, bolts and screws rolling all over the place. 

Tony gave a small cry of surprise and regret as he remembered Loki’s words, that he was not to go near anything that he had broken, but he also remembered the way Loki had looked at that same device. He bit his lip and crawled off the bed, his small fingers gathering the pieces up into one pile as he looked over them, putting the display glass aside. He broke his angel’s watch, and he knew that apologizing wasn’t going to make it better. Sighing softly he picked each one of the pieces up, examining it silently before putting it down onto the floor again, going through all of them. When it felt like he had memorized them all by heart he slowly started putting them together like pieces of a broken puzzle, bringing them together, his careful digits sliding the bolts and screws into the right holes, building it all from scratch. 

In a few hours he was done and he gently put the display glass over the surface, giving the arms of the watch an encouraging nudge and closing the lid. He turned it over and carefully turned the little bolt in the back to fix it all together and nearly cried out in joy when he heard the satisfying ticking of the device. He plopped down on the floor, sighing happily. 

His fingers ached but it was all worth it, and he put the clock back on the bedside table, smiling to himself and returning to watch the TV, which now had a new movie on it, the voices speaking softly to each other. 


	23. Cruelty

Tony sat staring at the new pictures flashing on the screen for a few moments, watching the people move along the dark alleys. He moved to wrap himself in the blankets, snuggling into the warmth and sighing softly. It wasn’t long before the soft whispers on the television turned to cries for help and soft grunts and the scene transitioned into a darker one, as the main hero was cornered and raped. 

All Tony could do was stare at the screen. What the actors did on the TV was so familiar it hurt him, hurt him physically as he felt his heart clenching and hands starting to shake. No tears came; it felt as if they were, too, stuck in his throat. He felt helpless, felt like he couldn’t help the poor girl on the TV and he almost walked to the screen, almost pressed his palm against the glassy surface. This had been his worst nightmare, and yet so real, this was what had happened to him, and what he had thought happened _only_ to him, and yet there he was. 

#56 had allowed himself to think that he was safe. That in the comfort of the warm, colorful walls with the blankets around him and his doctor close, that he would escape the memories, that the time of torture and abuse was over. But it seemed that even in the brightest places the memories and thoughts still haunted him, if not as persons experiences, then as actors on the shiny screen. He couldn't understand how evil someone would have to be to stand by, filming and watching something so horrible happening, just like he was now. 

Tony swallowed down his tears and sobs, none of them coming out. He felt numb and stupid, childish even, for having ever thought that anything good could happen to him without there being consequences. He sat and watched the screen silently, and it seemed like the scene would never end, the men never stopped pushing and shoving while the woman screamed the whole time. 

Tony didn’t know how long he had been sitting there when Loki came back, at first a smile on his lips but then a shocked grimace as he dropped his briefcase and moved to switch the TV over. But even when the images disappeared Tony was still replaying them in his mind, the movie and his own memories mixed in one, crushing him. 

He remembered the arms around him, shaking him hard as he stared blankly at the gray rectangle in front of him. But he felt paralyzed, his eyebrows knotted slightly on his forehead and his hands clutching the covers, the white material crumpled in his clenched fists. 

Loki’s long, slim fingers were grasping Tony’s shoulders as he shook him. Fear and worry gripped his throat, as well as guilt. He should have known. In spite of his undeniable with all the bad there was in this world, he was still too _good_. “Tony, snap the fuck out of it,” Loki snapped, shaking him again, and breathing in relief when eventually, the lost amber eyes turned to him. 

“This world… it’s so cruel… It’s all so ugly, and I’m filled with it,” Tony breathed, unable to put his thoughts into words. “Men- these men did things to me- and I’m filled with- filled with sin-“ he mumbled, shaking his head, swallowing hard again. He wasn’t crying, and Loki wished he would. Because the _age_ that had suddenly appeared on Tony’s face was unbearable, the sadness and shame in the brown orbs was not something that anyone deserved.

The doctor shook his head and raised his hand, holding Tony’s face up. “Do not say that,” he told him strictly, shaking his head, “Do not, please, do not,” he asked softly, “Your conscience is clean, it is them who are bad,” he tried to explain, “You are clean and innocent, too innocent,” he told him softly, patting his shoulder, “Stop this, I’m sorry you had to see that, it’s just a movie, it’s just actors, it’s not real, none of it is real,” he told him over and over again. None of it was real, what was real was inside of Tony’s head, bright and clear, the memories haunting him. He could feel, almost see them all in Tony’s eyes, he could sense them radiating off the small body. He hugged him closer and patted his back, lying down on the bed in his work clothes and bringing the patient down with him. 

Tony obliged silently, not minding, or rather, not really caring. “I’m sorry, Loki,” he told him quietly, his voice honest and clear, “Your life is filled with me, filled with bad,” he sighed, and though his voice was shaky his eyes were clear, his cheeks dry. 

Loki shook his head and pressed his lips into a hard line, “I’m so glad that I went into that room, that I came to help you,” Loki told him, and though he meant for the words to be a comforting lie his voice was sincere and honest. “Thank you,” he told him softly, “Thank you, Tony,” he whispered and pecked his cheek, knowing that the insane patient had taught him more than he had ever thought would be possible. 

Tony’s deep, hollow eyes closed and he pressed closer to Loki, as if trying to physically fill the void in his heart with Loki, needing to feel something other than pain, fear and worry. 


	24. Mending

Loki watched his patient as he slowly drifted of to sleep, his breathing growing more and more even and his tense muscles relaxing. He combed through the unruly hair, carefully separating each strand, and kissed the creased forehead and the knotted eyebrows as they relaxed further and further. Now, Tony looked peaceful and young. His face was no longer twisted in pain, it no longer looked like that of an old, pained man, the expression was restful. Slowly, Loki started to relax himself, a soft, long sigh of relief falling from his lips. He reached over for the television remote and took the batteries out, throwing them onto the couch along with the device and relaxing on the bed, closing his eyes. He felt Tony shuffle closer to him, closer to his warmth and didn't mind, only opening his arms for the patient to slip into them. Closing his eyes and relaxin - as much as he could - his mind, the doctor fell asleep in a matter of seconds. 

Tony was the first one to wake up, his eyes still empty but no longer glassy. He looked down at the doctor and tried to remember what happened last night, and the memories slowly crawled back, one by one, not only those of last night but also ones of his own. But strangely, Tony didn't hide into the corner or start screaming, trying to claw the memories out of his mind, instead Tony acknowledged them, scooting closer to Loki and trying as hard as he could not to break, to be able to remember and yet still remain sane. As sane as it was possible. His eyes teared up slightly but he kept quiet, biting down on his lip and trying to focus on the doctor's steady breathing, his perfect, smooth skin, the straight nose, thin lips and all things wonderful about him. Soon, all else escaped his mind other than the flawless face before him and he blinked sleepily, sighing and knowing that with Loki, he didn't have anything to fear. The thought comforted him and he drifted off to sleep again, snoring softly. 

Loki woke up late in the afternoon, yawning and shuffling out of Tony's arms, knowing that he should not have allowed that much contact between them but also not regretting it. He stretched, arching his back and cocking his head from side to side, hearing satisfying cracks from his neck. He looked over at Tony, who was awakened by the lack of arms around him and was blinking sleepily, a faint smile on his lips. "Good morning," Loki said, his voice serious but soft. He noticed a faint, unfamiliar ticking in his ears but didn't pay much attention to it, as he got up to shower. "Come 56, you'll be scared here alone," he nodded to Tony, extending his hand out for the patient to come with him to the bathroom, not wanting him to fear. 

Tony looked at the hand and slowly shook his head, looking back up at the doctor. Loki noticed once again, the speed at which the small face was changing, and though his body remained drastically undeveloped his face seemed to grow older, not in size or shape but in the creases of his eyebrows, the slight frown of his lips and the hollow and sunken eyes. Tony parted his lips to speak and cleared his throat, shaking his head again, "No," he muttered softly, causing the doctor to crease his eyebrows in confusion, "No- no, doctor, not 56, Tony," Tony whispered with a faint smile, "And- I'm- I'm a big-big boy," he whispered softly, and though the words were immature and infantile, Loki saw how true they were. He nodded once with a tight smile, feeling warmth spread in his gut as he realized how much the patient had progressed since he first saw him. 

"Alright," he nodded once and walked to the bathroom, smiling to himself faintly as he showered and pulled on his clothes, wrapping the towel around his waist and walking out of the washroom and back to Tony, who was still sitting patiently on the bed, playing with his fingers. Loki dried his hair and tossed the towel aside, sitting back down on the bed. He once again noticed the faint ticking and looked around, frowning. His own watch on his hand produced ticks much fainter and softer than the current ones and he frowned, trying to understand. "Tony- do you hear that?" 

Tony's face went pale and he nodded once, knowing he had messed up, somehow changed the watch so that the ticking was not what it had been and the doctor would be mad, furious even. He cleared his throat and blinked quickly, looking down at his fingers. "I- I tried, I'm sorry," he whispered quietly, nodding towards the clock on the bedside table. Loki narrowed his eyes and slowly stood up, walking to the clock and picking it up, bringing it to his ear as if to make sure and watching the arms move. "Tony- this is- amazing," he murmured, tapping the glass which had a faint scratch on the surface, barely visible. 

Tony looked up at him with knotted eyebrows, not understanding. "I dropped it, doctor," he muttered, his voice thick, "I tried to fix," he mumbled, watching Loki as he tapped the watch, twisting it around in his hands and listening to it tick. 

"Tony, this has not worked in years, maybe even decades," Loki looked down at Tony, shaking his head in disbelief, "This is- this is simply amazing, how can you- how did you do this?" he asked, sitting back down on the bed as he twirled and spun the clock in his hands, as if that helped him understand the magic behind Tony's work. 

"It didn't work?" Tony asked softly as a small smile crept onto his lips, his eyes glimmering with pride and interest, "I fixed it, it didn't work," he said with a bigger grin, watching Loki, taking pride in how happy he was thank to him. "It was broken inside," he explained softly, "It was broken inside and I opened it and fixed it, from the inside," he smiled, patting Loki's shoulder, "Like you fixed me, from the inside," he smiled faintly, taking the clock out of the elegant hands into his own, taking off the back of it and tracing his fingers along the insides, "Here, it was broken," he nodded, slowly replacing the back again and giving it back to Loki. 

"Thank you, Tony," Loki muttered softly as he brought the clock to his ear one final time to hear it tick before setting it back down onto the table. "I bet you could do great things with that talent, maybe open your own clock fixing store," he smiled, turning to his patient on the bed, "Would you like that?" 

Tony thought about the wonderful idea, helping people by fixing their clocks and watches, being accepted and needed for his few talents. He nodded once, playing with his fingers and fisting the covers again, "Yes," he replied softly, "I'd like that," he nodded, and Loki smiled at his words. 

"Maybe when you're better," he nodded, getting up to get his briefcase off the floor and dust it off, taking it into his hands, "Definitely when you're better," he chuckled, "I'll be back soon, don't touch the television, you can- you can play with this if you like," Loki smiled as he took off his wristwatch and tossed it to Tony who caught it. With one final smile the doctor walked out, closing the door behind him. 


	25. The Final Attack

Tony watched the doctor leave and sighed softly, relaxing on the bed and staring down at his feet, smiling at how clean they looked, compared to the days when all he saw looking down were socks of dry blood and dirt. He turned to the TV, which was blank and empty, and reached over for the remote before changing his mind and folding his hands back on his lap, smoothing out the blanket silently, humming softly to himself. He didn’t get off the bed until he needed to go to the bathroom, and silently padded over to the toilet, doing his business quickly and washing his hands, walking back to the bed and tucking himself in. 

However, his peaceful day was soon interrupted by a loud knocking on the door, which made him jump and turn, his heart rate accelerating. He got up, tucking the bed in after himself and slowly walking to the door, clearing his throat and calling a soft “Yes,” which was left unanswered. “Doctor?” he called quietly again, putting one small hand on the handle and cocking his head. 

Howard Stark was behind the door, his shirt crumpled and his hair in a mess. His nostrils flared in anger, his teeth gritted. When he had come looking for Tony that morning in the hospital, needing a time off from his work and wife, he was told that Tony was no longer a patient. What had bothered Howard most was how the nurses talked of him. _Tony_. He was #56. A _number_. Nothing more. _His_ number. And now there he was, frustrated and angry. 

Slowly, Tony’s hand pressed on the handle, opening the door. The soft amber eyes peeked through the opening, and as soon as they met the dark, brown orbs Tony knew he shouldn’t have opened the door. Having expected to see the familiar, emerald eyes Tony was caught off guard, giving his father enough time to swing the door open, the handle hitting harshly against the wall. Tony’s lips trembled as he shook his head, whispering soft pleas and apologies as he took a few steps back. 

Howard reached over and caught the small neck, his nostrils flaring wildly and his eyebrows arched threateningly. His face was unshaven and porous and he smelled of liquor and sweat, the worst combination possible. “I’ve be-be-be-been good,” Tony whispered, stuttering as he tried to edge away from the attacker, his weak hands clawing at the hand on his throat, “P-p-p-p-please,” he groaned, but it was all for nothing. 

“You belong to me,” Howard hissed, his grip on the throat tightening, “You are _mine_ , I don’t care who _tries_ to heal you, I don’t give a _fuck_!” he screamed and Tony winced at the harsh words, “You are mine, and I will have you when I want, and how I want it,” he snapped, throwing him down onto the bed roughly, “You think these fancy hotel rooms and beds make you any better? You think you can be saved? You are _incurable_ , you don’t _need_ to be cured, this is all you’re good for,” Howard mumbled under his breath as he quickly removed his belt, holding it folded in his hand and pulling Tony’s pants down with the other. 

The patient heard each word mumbled under Howard’s breath, but something was different about the way he took the sentences in, there was no blind faith in the harsh insults anymore. He didn’t struggle as the pants were torn away from him, nor did he do anything but cry out in pain when the strong hand brought the belt down on his buttocks, leaving a bright red flaming trail in its place. He didn't struggle because he knew it was hopeless. He knew that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to fight back, never be strong enough to win. 

Howard only had patience for a few hits before his long, dirty fingernails clawed at the pants Loki had given Tony, ripping them off and throwing them into the corner. Tony was limp on the bed, his heart rate fast but eyes blank, lost. He felt the long nails grip his thighs harshly before the burning returned, and he struggled to relax, to make the encounter at least slightly less painful. His walls expanded around Howard’s member as he ruthlessly pounded into him, his teeth gritted, his eyes filled with more anger than arousal. 

Feeling the lack of struggle, the man reached over and pulled the amber hair back harshly, arching the patient’s back and going faster, grasping both of the thin hands with his other hands and pulling them harshly behind the arched back, causing pained hisses to escape Tony’s lips as his father raped him. “You are nothing, never have been and never will be,” Howard panted, his head thrown back and buttocks clenching and unclenching in pleasure. 

The words brought a strange feeling to Tony’s heart, one that he had taught himself to ignore, one that he always feared because it usually brought the _other_. But this time, as anger washed over him, Tony felt no need to hold it down. Howard was _hurting_ him. And it was _not_ Tony’s fault. With a loud cry Tony let the _other_ take over, and his whole body convulsed, causing Howard to lose control for a moment, his gaze confused. 

Realization slowly set in and he pulled out, taking a few steps back, precum dripping to the floor as he struggled to get his pants back on, stumbling to the door. 

It barely took Tony a minute to get off the bed, his eyes darker and his lips twisted in a grimace, his chest heaving. It was almost funny, the way such a small body, with trembling, thin knees and small, wiry arms could present such a danger to the other man. He slowly stepped forward, his head cocked to one side, as he looked his father over. “I am _not_ nothing, nor will I _ever_ be,” he hissed, his voice threatening and loud. As he finished uttering the words he lunged himself at Howard, pinning him to the wall and wrapped his hands around his unshaven neck. 

It was a matter of minutes before both of them were panting, but Tony’s hands never failed him, applying more and more pressure on the other’s neck, feeling his Adam’s apple bob helplessly as he tried to gasp for breath. “I am _not_ nothing,” the white lips kept on repeating as he choked his father, hands shaking and legs wrapped tightly around his torso, keeping him down, but it just didn’t seem to be enough, and the struggles never ended. The _other_ ’s gaze slowly drifted to the clock on the bedside table, the one he had fixed, Loki’s favorite. With one quick move he grabbed the device, the metal heavy in his hand as he brought it down, hitting his victim hard on the head. Howard’s struggles ended with one final attempted gasp and he fell limp on the floor, his eyes wide open and blood trickling down the small crack where the clock had hit. 


	26. Goodbye

            The _other_ sat silently in front of the dead body, his arms wrapped around his knees and his eyes empty and emotionless. He watched it, as if he was scared that his father would somehow come back to life, come back to rape and touch him again. But it did not happen. All he heard was the faint ticking of the clock which worked fine in spite of being slammed against the man’s head.

            Hours passed and the _other_ did not leave, but it was not by his will. His job was done. Tony was safe, or as safe as he could get him to be. And inside, Tony himself didn’t mind either. He didn’t feel like a bad boy anymore, like he was committing a sin for protecting himself. He knew that he would never hurt anyone out of his own free will, just like he didn’t hurt Loki even when he had his fingers wrapped tightly around his throat. So he sat there, waiting.

            It was three hours before Loki returned. At first with a small, relieved smile on his face that faded as he stepped in and his eyes trailed from Tony to the body and back. It took him a few moments, perhaps a little too long to realize what had happened and he gasped softly. “Tony,” he murmured and the _other_ looked up having heard the name, because no matter how different he was, deep inside they both knew they were _Tony_.

            “Yes,” he spoke softly, and his voice was no different from what it always was, soft and calm. He watched the doctor’s eyes widen in disbelief and confusion as he rushed over to the corpse, his hands shaking as he opened the briefcase and took out his supplies. _Who was the man? How had he found Tony? Was it Tony, sitting there before him?_ All hurriedness leaked from his actions when he tested the pulse and found none. He slumped back against the closet, shaking his head.

            “Don’t worry,” Tony spoke softly again and the emerald eyes snapped back up to the amber. “Don’t worry, angel,” he smiled faintly, getting up and slowly padding over to his doctor, his foot getting slightly caught in his own pants lying on the floor on the way. “Don’t worry, I will go now, I don’t have to be here anymore,” he nodded, and Loki knew instantly what had happened. He nodded once, trying to force a smile. “Blame this on me,” he pointed to the corpse, “They wont find me,” he shook his head, taking Loki’s hands into his own, “We need to go,” he explained softly, and Loki felt the heaviness in his voice and he knew that his job was over. The case was done. There was no more #56. “We need to go, he doesn’t need you anymore,” he murmured and the words were not bitter, nor were they meant to offend, on the opposite they were almost kind, “Thank you, doctor, angel,” Tony slowly got up, his pants in his hand, his face soft, the _other_ and Tony, whole again. “I have to go now,”

            Loki nodded once, still slumped against the hard wood behind him, the limp, slowly cooling hand heavy in his own. “Bye,” he whispered quietly, and his lips barely moved and the words were almost unheard, but they still rung in the air, a soft murmur. “Bye Tony,” he said once again, his eyes sad and understanding, but proud at the same time. Not of himself, but of Tony. In that moment, the young doctor did not think of all the praise he would receive for curing the incurable one, or all the danger he could face, for having been discovered with a dead body in his hotel room. All he knew was that Tony, the one he had one day found alone in a room, nails crimson and walls decorated with his own blood, with severe phobias and multiple personality disorder, was now cured. Developing. At last, grown.

            “Bye Tony,” he said once again, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips, the feeling of the small hand in his never leaving his mind. “Goodbye,” he mouthed, more to himself than to Tony as he watched him leave. He kept on looking at the door even when the amber curls; slender body and padding feet were gone, long away. He kept on looking, not because he was hoping for him to come back, even though he was, but more because he wanted to remember, this moment, like it was now.

            And even after he heard the cleaning lady scream, staff rush in, police sirens wail and officers pile in, that he would never forget that moment, that short conversation and Tony’s back as he walked out, no longer the victim, no longer a patient, no longer a number.

 


	27. Loki and Tony

            Loki Laufeyson closed the door of his own office, fumbling with lock, the long elegant fingers twisting the key and then slipping it into his white pocket. He ran a hand through his dark, ebony hair, smoothing it back and sighing in relief. Another day done.

            Even after all of those patients, all of those months – twenty-nine, to be exact – Loki still remembered. He remembered the chocolate brown eyes, the way they lit up with happiness or deepened in sadness. The vibrant curls of the thin hair and full lips, so often twisted in a grimace of pain, at least in his memories. Though he chose to remember Tony as happy and young, there were always memories that followed after those, memories of his face when he first came to meet him in his room; the first time he had saved him from the fat pig that was raping his mouth. There were two sides to the memories, and every day, at some point, Loki found himself simply sitting there, and remembering.

            “Sir! Sir you cant do that!” he heard a small cry from the receptionist and chose to ignore it, too lost in his thought to care about what probably was a young teenager trying to get himself some rubbing alcohol for their illegal hobbies. “Sir stop it!” she squealed and Loki gritted his teeth, hanging his coat on the rack and slipping the office keys out of the pocket before heading away from it.

            “It’s okay, I know him,”

            With that one sentence the doctor’s head snapped to the side, eyes wide and lips parted. It was _his_ voice, and no matter how much thicker or lower it sounded now, Loki was sure of it. _It was Tony_.

            “There he is,”

            Standing before him was his ex-patient. It was amazing how much he had grown in less then three years. He was still short in spite of being much taller, and his hair was just as unruly, though no longer covered in dirt and blood. His arms seemed to be muscular and toned, skin bronze and smooth. His simple black Queen shirt and ripped, faded jeans made him look playful and young, and his smile was toothy and bright. And of course, the amber eyes were cheerful, glimmering in the dim hospital lighting, and they seemed to warm Loki up from the inside, such a familiar feeling he had not experienced in so many years. He parted his lips to gasp breathlessly, his own smile slow and surprised.

            “Tony, remember?” the young man called, raising an eyebrow, slight hurt crossing his features. The thick eyebrows knotted slightly and Loki found himself nodding quickly, struggling to get the words out,

            “Of course,” he whispered at last, “Anthony Stark, Case #56,” he said thoughtlessly and bit his lip, wondering if he had triggered painful memories but all he saw on Tony’s face was satisfaction of being remembered. “Anthony Stark,” he repeated, and felt as if a large stone had been lifted off his chest. He had never truly acknowledged how much he had been worrying for Tony, how much his sleepless nights had to do with the fact that he didn’t know where or how he was. Saying the name was a relief, a pleasure. “Tony, Tony,” he repeated, nodding again.

            Tony laughed, the sound merry and joyous, lighting up the dull, blank hospital corridors. “Yes, doctor,” he said softly, “I’m a little late,” he teased, and Loki found himself laughing softly, sincerely _laughing_ , which was not something he had done in a while now. “Angel,” Tony smiled, and Loki suddenly felt a pang of shame for himself. Tony had progressed so much in the years, growing and developing, now so much bigger, so much stronger and enhanced. And there he was, only twenty-nine months older, maybe with a little more wrinkles on his face. But Tony didn’t seem to notice, and the way he looked at Loki was no different. The childlike idolization didn’t change, and Loki realized that he was _still_ his angel, even though Tony didn’t need him anymore, and knew that the man was no more than a doctor; he was still special, in his kind heart. “What are you dong tonight?” the voice asked again and Loki swallowed, shaking his head.

            “Nothing,” he murmured, pulling on the coat handed to him by the receptionist, who was stunned alone by the sound of Loki’s laugh, not something that she heard every day. “There’s a café down the road?” the doctor offered with a smile and Tony shook his head.

            “No, I want to show you something,” he beamed, and opened the door for Loki. He followed him out and stopped a cab, slipping in and waiting for Loki to follow. “I have so much to tell you,” he muttered softly, and indeed, he did. Talking during the whole ride did not seem to be enough, and in the warm atmosphere of the surprisingly large _Tony’s Clock Repair_ the two kept on talking, not noticing as sun set and the night came.

            Tony’s eyes lit up as he talked, and Loki loved hearing of all the adventures he had in the short two and a half years, not only because he did not have many of his own to tell but also because it was fascinating to him, watching Tony, hearing him. Loki didn’t mind it as Tony carried on and on, never stopping for breath as he talked. Neither did he mind when he scooted a little closer to him, his voice dropping to a low murmur, and Loki certainly did not mind when Tony leaned in, pressing his soft lips against Loki’s own.

            He kissed him back, sensing the new confidence behind the toned body and tanned skin, but knowing that _his_ Tony was still there. It was a matter of minutes before both were panting and grinding, their hips rubbing eagerly against each other, soft pants of “Tony,” and “Doctor,” filling the air. The strong arms were gentle around Loki, and when they moved to the small bedroom behind the cash register and Tony showed him the more private parts of the clock store, the doctor felt his worries slipping away. Tony was controlling and dominant now, in spite of being the same small, lost boy he was only years ago, not that it bothered Loki. And when he made love to his doctor, his angel, kissing his neck and embracing the slender body, they both knew this was what they had both needed, two old friends, a healer and his patient, a doctor and a clock mender, an angel and a lost boy, Loki and Tony. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This is the final chapter, and I am both happy and sad to say the story has ended and what happens next is for you to decide. Even though the writing was done by me, there are people who I have to thank. First, of course, I want to thank my beta who I could never go without (and who inspired a new story i will be shortly posting) -_   
>  _[godofmischief93](http://archiveofourown.org/users/godofmischief93/pseuds/godofmischief93). _And second, I want to thank everyone who read the story, and also the ones who commented, especially[EchoSiriusRumme](http://archiveofourown.org/users/EchoSiriusRumme/pseuds/EchoSiriusRumme) _, Klorx,[tonedeaf](http://archiveofourown.org/users/crazybotch/pseuds/tonedeaf) _,[Magpies_Wings](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Magpies_Wings/pseuds/Magpies_Wings) _,[TheCapitolRose](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCapitolRose/pseuds/TheCapitolRose) _and[KennaLynn ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KennaLynn/pseuds/KennaLynn)_for their continuous support.__  
>  The new story I will be rewriting will include Loki and Tony (obviously) and Stockholm's syndrome and more fucked-up-ness <3 the prologue of the story is _[here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/712883)______


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